


Five Things That Never Happened to Simon Snow

by fairy_tale_echo



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: 5 Things, Alternate Canons All Over, Alternate Universe, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, I Hope Cath Would Be Proud, M/M, five things, happy endings, idiot boys meant for each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-09-14 17:04:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9195386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairy_tale_echo/pseuds/fairy_tale_echo
Summary: Five times life turned out differently for Simon Snow (but some things are a constant in every 'verse)(like Simon and Baz)





	1. Saved

**Author's Note:**

> OMG WHAT AM I DOING HERE. I promise you the last thing I ever expected was to be sucked into this fandom but I can't get this universe outta my head. Which means I have to start writing. This will be five things that never happened to Simon but _could_ have. They are all set within the universe/timeline of _Carry On_ \- so there will be nothing after that timeline (that's another fic for another day!) but some stories will take place before the direct action in _Carry On_ , as I hope you'll see if you read them all! I wanted to post this first part to dip my feet in - and since it's long. But I have the other pieces all planned out. 
> 
> I will add characters as I add chapters. Not Brit-picked, so please do let me know if you have any suggestions. As this is my first fic in this fandom (!) any and all feedback is cherished and adored. Let's do this thing! <3

_“I would have helped,” I say. “It wouldn’t have taken six weeks with me helping.”_

_Baz is scornful. “You never would have helped my family.”_

_“I would!  It was driving me mental not knowing where you were. I thought you were going to jump out from every corner.”_

(Chapter 65)

++

**Fiona**

It will never work. It will never bloody work. No matter what I do it just won’t work.

Crowley. I am never going to find Basil.

I’ve used every spell, I’ve juiced them, twisted them, and magnified them in every language, in every permutation. I’ve used spells from centuries ago, brand new ones that are full of the current zeitgeist, mottos, and battle cries. I’ve taken every bloody bit of magic in the Pitch family and channeled it all through every turn of phrase I can think of and it doesn’t work.

I can’t let myself think about why not – about how maybe I can’t find Basil because he isn’t – no.  I simply cannot let that happen. Not to Basil. Not to Natasha’s son.

I endlessly prowl the streets of London.  I search and cast and spell as far as I can, draining my magic time after time. I try it over maps, just in case he isn’t in London – or England at all – anymore, Crowley forbid. It’s been a week since he was taken. Then two.  There’s nothing of Basil besides the ransom request and, besides the fact Pitches never pay ransoms, I don’t entirely trust paying it would do any good. (There’s a reason we don’t pay, they chopped up one of the great-great-great-great aunties a few generations back, even after they had the gold. A Pitch learns their lesson.)  

The spells turn up nothing, threatening and even lightly attempting to bribe people turns up nothing. Questioning people who were at the club, schmoozing every member of the Families who might have even the slightest idea, none of it turns up _anything._ I am this close to trying to accost one of the Mage’s foot soldiers and demand info but I’ll be damned if I show that asshole the slightest bit of weakness.

It’s a month now. I would never admit it out loud, but I’m getting desperate. Watford is back in session.  Basil should be there, getting ready to graduate at the top of the class, spying on that traitorous Mage, tormenting his useless fucking roommate.

His useless fucking roommate.

Simon bloody Snow. The most _powerful_ mage in the world.

I have an idea so stupid it just might work.

++

**Simon**

I can’t sleep. I can’t stop.

Baz is out there – somewhere – and I have to know what he’s doing. Our room is driving me mad (It’s not even really our room anymore. I thought it’d just become my room, by default, but it’s worse than that. Now it’s like nothing, now it’s like that space where Baz is supposed to be is taunting me.)

I’ll comb every inch of Watford. I’ll find him, I’ll find out what he’s up to and I’ll stop him.

I keep being pulled into the Wavering Woods.  Maybe because that’s the last place I saw him – holding onto Agatha, yeah, but still. The Wavering Woods basically vibrate with magic, so I guess that’s part of it too. And, honestly, they’re dark and deep and I can work out some of the … the … _feeling_ burning under my skin by hacking away at them.

So I already have my sword in my hand, out there in the woods, when a woman steps out of the darkness.

++

**Fiona**

I spend a day trying to figure out how I am going to get inside Watford and get to the Mage’s Heir. And then, for the love of Christ, he wanders right out into the woods. All on his own.  In the middle of the night.  How this idiot has managed to stay alive so long is beyond me.

I hope he’s not on some kind of Chosen One mission.

Though, honestly, I don’t care if he is. Because what he’s going to help me with is much more important.

++

**Simon**

I think I know her.  She’s … I’ve seen her.

She’s dressed like she should be leading a punk rock band. She wearing a tightly fitted black leather jacket, faded jeans, and knee high leather boots.  She … she’s …

And then I see the swoop of black hair falling across her forehead and, more than that, the haunted, frantic look she has in her eyes and it clicks into place.  I know that look.

This is Baz’s aunt.

++

**Fiona**

“Hello, Chosen One,” I say softly, raising my wand towards him in a slow, deliberate move. He rolls his sword over in his hand restlessly in response. What kind of terrible mage leads with a sword instead of his wand? I think of all the silly, stupid threats he’s about to throw at me. He might even try a spell.  I haven’t let myself think about Snow and his mentor being involved with Basil’s kidnapping.  They might well be – but it’s Snow’s power that’s simmering in my mind and it’s what I’ve come here for.  I’ve got to be prepared for anything – even the possibility this boy knows where Basil is. Not that I think he’ll admit to that. He’ll say something about the Mage, something about righteous justice.  Some kind of action movie cliché, I imagine. I’m ready for anything.

“Where – is – Baz?” His voice is ragged, torn from somewhere dark, I can tell.  But there’s no magic in.  Just, well, something that sounds akin to desperation.

Well, I wasn’t ready for that.

I lower my wand.

++

**Simon**

What is she here for?  

Why is she in the Wavering Woods?

Is Baz here? Is she meeting Baz?  Did she know I’d be here? Is this a coincidence? Is this a _trap_?

I should never have come out here with Penny.

Of course, if it is a trap at least I’ll finally know where Baz is.

Yeah, definitely should not have come out here without Penny.

++

**Fiona**

“My name is Fiona Pitch,” I say, keeping my voice as level as I can.  I watch as Snow holds his sword in front of him, still obviously cautious.  Maybe not as stupid as I’d thought then.  He’s right to be wary of me.

“I’m Basil’s aunt and you’re … you’re going to help me find him.”

There are so many ways he could react. Lunge at me with that sword like some kind of childish barbarian.  Try some spell on me – though I know from Basil and others who’ve seen Snow try to cast that he’s shaky with magic unless he’s blowing up.  Which, maybe, he’ll blow up, I suppose that’s possible. But, honestly, I don’t think that will happen. In fact, I think …

He lowers the sword. “Yeah,” Simon Snow says, tilting his chin and meeting my gaze head on.

“Yeah. I will.”

++

**Simon**

Why did I say that?

++

**Fiona**

This idea is _mad_. It will never work.

But then I glance behind Snow and see Watford silhouetted against the night sky.   _Natasha._ She should be here: in her school, in the place she loved the best. And since she can’t be I am going to make damn sure her son has every chance to…to survive.

And Simon Snow, incredibly, seems ready to help. I’m not going to turn my back on that.

“Excellent,” I nod once.  “We leave now.  Put the sword away and follow me.”

And what do you know?  He actually does.

++

**Simon**

She’s got the exact kind of car you’d expect, some kind of vintage boxy sports car and for some bloody reason I’ve hopped right inside it and am _driving away from Watford_ with her. She’s not even talking to me about what’s going on.

When Penny finds out – if I live through this – I am going to be in so much trouble.

++

**Fiona**

We have to make time from Watford if we want to start work in London tonight. It makes sense to me to start there and work outwards.  I’m not sure how much difference Snow’s magic is going to make but we might as well start in the most populated area to make the most of the time we have. I realize that we have to get as much done as possible tonight because God forbid the Mage and his secret police wake up tomorrow to find their Chosen One in the wind.

I pull down for my magic and center my desire to find Basil.  With all I have, I cast _Time is of the essence_ and then we’re a blur.

++

**Simon**

We’re flying.  Fiona’s _Time is of the essence_ makes the world bend around us. Before I can even open my mouth to dare inquire about a plan, I see London. We can’t be more than 10 minutes from the Eye and I wonder if that’s where we’re headed.   
  
She thinks Baz is in London and she doesn’t know where and she can’t find him on her own, with all her power and all her connections and all her money and she’s so desperate about it, she’s come to get me from Watford for help and –

_What if it’s a trap?_

_What if this was Baz’s plan all along?_

_Why did I agree to this_?

I know why. It’s because I can’t go on not knowing. It’s because I haven’t been able to sleep, to rest, to stop, without knowing where Baz is.  It’s because our room is so silent and so empty and I can’t look any deeper into why that means _I_ feel so empty, I just can’t.  What I can do is get some answers. Even if the answers are another scheme. But Fiona – she doesn’t look like she’s in on any scheme. She looks distraught.

As always, I find myself stumbling over the words (there’s just so much I want to know) when I start talking. “I – you’re going to have to – do you know where – you owe me – I need to – can’t you – “

She makes a low frustrated noise that reminds me so much of Baz.  “Finish the sentence, boy.”

“What has happened to Baz?” I say, stupidly, the question I can’t get out of my brain.

“If I knew that I wouldn’t have come out looking for you, would I?  I think your bloody Mage has taken him somewhere and –“

I cut her off. “The Mage didn’t take Baz.” But I’m not so sure of that, honestly. It’s not that I’d put it past the Mage, not if he got it in his head, it’s that I haven’t been able to figure out a decent reason why he’d do it.

Fiona snorts a little and pulls her car into a tight space in front. She jerks the car into park and turns to stare at me. “Look, I don’t know if your precious Mage has taken Basil and I don’t really care at this point.  I’ve spent the past month – “ I choke back a little gasp. A month? Baz has been gone a whole month? “tearing England apart looking for him. I’m going to find him and once I do, there will be plenty of time for vengeance. Pure vengeance for _anyone_ involved in the plot.” She narrows her gaze and I can practically feel the suspicion rolling off her in waves.

“If you think I had something to do with this –“

Now it’s her turn to cut me off. “I wasn’t quite sure, honestly. I didn’t even really have a plan when I showed up at Watford … but then you came stumbling right into my path. You … you were looking for Basilton, weren’t you? That’s why you were alone out in the Wavering Wood, swinging your sword around in the middle of the night, isn’t it?”

I shrug and turn my face away from her.

“Yes.  As I thought. Even if your Mage took him, _you_ don’t know where he is. You want to know where he is too much for it to be an act. You … you want him back too, don’t you?”

My voice is barely louder than a whisper and I can’t meet her eyes. “Yeah.”

++

**Fiona**

Oh my. I think Simon Snow might actually care for Basilton.

++

**Simon**

Crowley. I want Baz back.

++

**Fiona**

“Good,” I say and I think I might even mean it. “Because we’re going to find him. We’re going to use your magic and we’re going to find him.”

I gesture to the empty lot we’ve pulled up beside and swing open my car door.  “Come on,” I tell him.  “We’ve got work to do.”  I grab my bag of supplies out of the back seat.

For the first time in weeks I feel the faintest stir of hope that this might actually work.

++

**Simon**

I have to tell her about my magic.  I have to tell her what it’s like when I go off. But then … she’s directing me to a huge, desolate lot with nothing around.  Maybe she knows.  Maybe she’s willing to take the risk.  And since I’m following her out of the car I think I must be too.

“My magic – “ I shout as I trail behind her, headed towards the center of the lot. “It’s not always stable.  Sometimes it’s … I just … it – my magic – explodes sometimes.”

She tosses the bag she’s pulled from her backseat roughly down on the ground. “Oh, I know that, Snow.  I’ve seen the chaos you’ve caused.” She smiled at me.  “That’s what I’m looking for.”

“But I – I don’t want to hurt – it – it could blow – I don’t know how – I don’t even have a spell to – to,” I am stumbling over my words.

She sighs. “Crowley, no wonder you’re bad at spells, you can’t get a whole sentence out.” She digs through the bag and pulls out a giant map.  She quickly stakes it down to the ground and then stares up at me.  “You’re going to cast a finding spell, Snow.  You’re going to use all that ‘most powerful Mage prophecy magicks’ inside you and you’re going to cast. And then I,” she pulls out her wand and points it at me, “I am going to try to manage it.  I don’t suppose your Mage ever tries that because he likes the fucking destruction but I actually want to use your power, not just detonate you.”

 _Manage it_? Was that a real thing?  Could someone – a powerful Mage like Fiona – actually manage my magic?  Would that work? If it would why hadn’t the Mage ever … if that was an option, if I didn’t have to explode and hurt people and burn magic … what could that be like?

“But what if I –“

 _“If_ you explode with it, I’ll deal.”

And for some reason, I actually believe her.

“Yeah.  OK then. Let’s try it.”

She waves her hand.  “Stand ON the map, it’s enchanted too and it should help with the location and maybe even the containment.”

I step forward, onto the map. “One thing, though. If – if it works – if it gives us a place and I don’t blow up half this block … you have to … I want to go with you to find him.”

++

**Fiona**

I plan to say no, he can’t come along, I can’t do what needs to be done with his smug goodness following me around.  But his power … his power could be a real asset, he has such deep wells of magic. And, more than that, I do believe the Chosen One wants to inflict some damage.

“Of course,” I say, as if that was never up for debate.

I meet his eyes.  “Cast Little Bo Peep,” I tell him. “It’s not the most precise finding spell but I’ve put a twist on the map to magnify it and since it’s so well-known it’s very powerful.”

He nods.  He doesn’t even use an object to cast. He closes his eyes and booms _“Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep and doesn’t know where to find them!”_ His voice is suddenly clear, steady, and loud – especially on the last four words.

And it glows – a corona of light magic rises up above him – I have never seen anything like it, the sheer power of it. Snow has actually levitated off the ground, he’s floating seemingly through the sheer force of his magic. For a moment, it is so beautiful and so pure. For a moment, I am stunned.

But I can tell the magic is about to overwhelm us.  I have to counter-cast and try to balance the wave of magic radiating out. I think of Basil, of how much I need to find him.  

And then I do a thing I never imagined. I point my wand and all my magic at the Mage’s Heir and instead of trying to end him, I try to save him.

 _“Slow and steady wins the race!”_ _  
_ _“Easy does it!”_   
“Moderation in all things!”

Merlin and Morgana, it’s working.

++

**Simon**

The map is burning.

The world is burning.

I am floating, lighter than air, not even here .

I am fire.

I am on fire.

But I keep pushing. I push my magic out, all the way out into the universe, as far as I can.

And I think – I think –

 _Baz. Baz. Baz_.

I’m about to go off, I am about to explode, I know it.

 _Baz. Baz. Baz_.

And then I…don’t.

++

**Fiona**

He crumples and falls but…he didn’t level this whole block. He didn’t explode.  

I walk cautiously over to him. “Snow?” I’m not even sure he’s still conscious.

Against every odd, he sits up. “Hullo?” His voice wavers. “Did it – am I… do we know? I didn’t – I didn’t go off.” His voice is laced with the same kind of wonder I’m feeling.

“Step off the map,” I say, trying not to hope.

He pulls himself up, a little shaky, but definitely still awake, definitely OK, and definitely moving on his own. And I see it.

The Pitch family crest burned neatly onto Blackfriar’s Bridge.

Aleister Crowley, it _worked_ . It worked _exactly_ as I’d been trying to get it to work. It took him less than five minutes.

I’ll never admit this to anyone, not ever, but for a second I am actually too stunned to move.

Simon Snow doesn’t have this problem. He gives himself a single good shake and then starts running to my car. “Come on then!” He yells at me.

And as I watch his back I realize two things with absolute clarity – two things I may be the only person in the entire magical world to know.

One is something I’ve always suspected but the implications are still terrifying. The Mage has no interest in managing or directing Simon Snow’s power. He wants him to explode and he doesn’t care what it does to Snow.

The other is something I could have never believed but I now can’t deny.

Simon Snow cares deeply about Basilton.  

++

**Simon**

There’s so many thoughts running through my head.

Fiona Pitch just managed my magic.  

I didn’t go off.  I used my magic and – and – I didn’t go off.  My magic was useful and strong and like so many other mage’s and – and –

 _Why hasn’t the Mage ever done that or tried to teach me how do it_?

Fiona Pitch just managed my magic.

And we found Baz. We’re going to Baz.

++

**Fiona**

“I’ll cast the finding spell now,” I say as we exit the car in a mad dash. We’ve parked at the Blackfriar’s Station, the crest appeared closer to the north end of the bridge.  “We should be close enough to not risk your mag-“

By the time I look over he’s already got his sword in his hand and a grim look on his face.

“Right then. You let me lead with the magic, Snow.  Do you hear me?  We can’t have you exploding – we need to get him and we need to find out who did this. You let me lead with magic!”

“I’ve got my sword,” he says, his voice serious, “you can do the magic.”

I cast _“where oh where has my little dog gone?”_ and follow the pull to Basil.

It takes us almost a mile but then I see an encampment.  Jesus Christ, Basilton has gotten himself kidnapped by _numpties_.

++

**Simon**

“It’s fucking numpties!” She’s come to a halt in front of what looks like a dark cave entrance. “Fucking numpties!” She says again and I swear, I think she’s laughing.  “That’s a numpty den!”

“So …” I begin.

“So, we’re going to go in and kill some numpties. And look for Basil.  DON’T explode, Snow. No matter what we find – don’t. explode. I won’t have time to manage you. Just swing away.”

She’s afraid of what we’ll find too. Merlin, I hope I can keep my magic under control.

We move forward, Fiona with her wand out, shouting “ _Paper covers rock!”_ over and over as we breach the numpty’s den.

It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dark but I can hear Fiona’s spells landing as numpties crumble. I swing my sword as hard as I can, trying to send just a little bit of magic through it. (It shouldn’t work that way – not without saying words – but I’m still a livewire from the spell earlier, my magic is right on the surface and I can make it flow in ways magic _shouldn’t_ flow and if there was ever a time – ever – that time is now.) It works, numpties seem to melt under my sword.  We’re surrounded by rubble and the gravelly, groaning sound of numpties fleeing and stumbling in confusion.

And then out of the corner of my eye, I spot it.  A coffin.   _A bloody coffin_. I forget about fighting numpties.  I forget about everything but getting to that coffin. I drop the sword and run.

++

**Fiona**

He’s going to get smashed to bits. I am going to have to save the Mage’s Heir _again_ because he’s just dropped his sword and left himself open to be smashed by a stupid numpty and I can’t let it happen because he’s going to – to – a _coffin_.

 _“Between a rock and a hard place!”_ I scream, aiming my spell at the numpty going for Snow. The numpty flies into pieces and Simon Snow couldn’t care less that he almost got smashed, that pieces of numpty are flinging past his head, because he won’t stop running for the coffin.

For Basil.

++

**Simon**

I rip off the lid of the coffin. I don’t even care that the coffin is basically implying everything I have been saying about Baz for YEARS is actually true (I _told_ everyone!) I don’t care about anything really other than – than –

“Baz!” I shout.

_Please be alive._

He looks like shit. His leg has obviously been injured and is lying at an odd angle.  He looks wan and pinched around the edges. Baz is always pale but now he looks entirely blanched dry. I can see the bottom of the coffin is littered with giant drink cups and twisted straws. I’m guessing he hasn’t had food.

_Please be alive._

Slowly, so slowly, he blinks open his eyes.

_Thank Crowley._

His voice is a tremulous whisper. “Simon?”

I dunno what it is but hearing him say my name that way – my _actual_ name - I – I dunno what happens but before I can think twice, I reach into that disgusting coffin and pull him out of it and into my arms.

I’m holding on to Baz with all I have, clinging to him, really, my face pressed into his chest even though he’s filthy, Crowley I think that’s crusted blood on his shirt,  and he smells bad, and I don’t care.  I don’t care.

I’ve got him.

And I’m not sure I’m going to be able to let him go.

++

**Baz**

Well, I’ve done it.  I thought I’d managed to keep myself together, that I’d managed to keep myself from losing the plot entirely but _obviously_ I’ve gone around the bend because here I am, imagining that I am looking up into Simon Snow’s stupid blue eyes and he’s staring at me with unabashed concern and –

Aleister Crowley, now he’s _holding_ me. Simon Snow has rescued me and is holding onto me like I am a lifeline and … well, yes. I’ve finally lost it because this – this can’t possibly be real.

++

**Fiona**

Oh for Christ’s sake.

Simon Snow is cradling Basil – _cradling him_ – and Basil has a disbelieving and almost transcendent look of contentment on his face.  

This is a thousand bloody times worse than when Natasha fell in love with a Grimm.

++

**Simon**

I heard Fiona charging towards us but she’s mad if she thinks I’m letting Baz go.  In fact, I have a plan.

“Let him go, Snow!” she shouts.

“No!  Can’t you see?  He needs help!  I - I can - I can - _we_ can - if you -” _use your words Simon_ “Manage it. Manage my magic. I’ll cast a get well soon and - do you have enough left to manage it again?”

I see her considering.  I know she’s not just considering how much magic she has but if she want to let me try to spell Baz.  She doesn’t want to, I know it.  But she can also see how wrecked Baz is and she saw what my magic could do.

She nods once and points her wand at me.

“Baz,” I tilt my head up, almost whispering in his ear. “Baz, I’m going to do a healing spell on you but it’s gonna be alright, Fiona is going to help.  Just - just let it work, OK?”

Before he can muster up what I am sure will be a classic Baz response of calling me an idiot who isn’t worth of my magic, I put a hand on his chest and start to cast.

++

**Baz**

Snow was whispering sweet nothings in my ear, Crowely, I’ve died here in this numpty den and am having the wildest post-death fantasy. Because there is just no way Simon Snow is here, with his hand on my chest, telling me he’s going to heal me and -

“ _Get Well Soon!_ ” he booms and I feel - I feel something I have never felt before. It’s not a healing spell, it’s _more_ than that.  Snow is - he’s putting his magic inside of me.

++

**Fiona**

I center my magic and get ready to stabilize Snow when I realize it’s not happening.  The sonic boom of Snow’s uncontrolled magic that I had managed to contain with the map and my counterspells just isn’t coming. Snow’s magic doesn’t appear to be building or radiating off him at all, actually.  If I didn’t know any better, it would seem like he’s -

No. It can’t be.

++

**Simon**

I pour it into Baz, I let my magic go.  

Just like when I was floating above the map except now I’m giving it to him instead of just pushing it out in the universe.  I’m not sure if it will work, but somehow, the minute I put my hand on his chest, I knew I could do it.  I knew it would work.

And it does.  Baz absorbs my magic and I let it flow into him - the feeling is almost beyond words, like a fire racing up my spine like I’m floating again but far, far farther than I ever have.

He stirs, reaching and wrapping his arms around my neck, pulling me closer.

I go.  I just keep going.

++

**Baz**

The throbbing pain from my leg recedes, the gnawing in my stomach quiets from a screaming roar to a dull thrum.  I don’t feel like every time I take a breath my ribs are going to crack. Snow’s magic is pouring into me like a river and it feels so bloody good.

I didn’t even know you could do this. I don’t think you can, actually, this isn’t supposed to happen.

But it’s Simon bloody Snow, since when has “supposed” to ever applied to him?

I let out a little involuntary sigh. I can’t help it, the magic, the healing, just feels too good. I’ve been shut up in that coffin for who knows how long (I lost track of time so quickly) I wasn’t sure when I would ever get out and now, now it’s all being washed away while I’m in _Simon Snow’s arms_ . I loop my arms around his neck and he lets me, _he lets me._ I let it wash through me, I let go.

++

**Fiona**

I am afraid I am going to have to spell these two away from each other.  

How was I so blind to his feelings that I never noticed that Basil’s fascination with Snow was rooted in something other than hatred? How did I let him so easily convince me that the persistent focus on all things related to Simon Snow was only antagonism? But how could I have ever imagined Snow mutual obsession was rooted in the same thing?  There’s just no way.  This just can’t happen.

Yet there they are, practically nuzzling, Snow’s magic cracker-jacking between them, healing Basil faster than any set of spells anyone else could ever do.

“That’s enough,” I say, making my tone stern. “Snow, that’s enough. Basil, we have to go now.”

Snow slowly, ever so slowly, pulls his hand from Basil chest and they both give a soft exhale.

“Basil, how are you? Stand up if you can.”

Of course for Basil to stand up, they’ll have to let go of each other and I’m not even certain either one of them wants to.  Snow lets go of Basil’s waist and sits back but he doesn’t take his eyes off him.

Basil rises in one smooth, strong movement. “Aunt Fiona, thank you.  I believe I’m fine. But I am going to need some food.”

I grin.  It’s so damned good to hear his voice.  I am carrying his wand, as I have every night since I first went out looking for him.  I hold it out to him. He grins back.

“Let’s go get you some food, then.”

He casts a quick _“Clean as a whistle_ ” on himself.  I note that he barely has any magic in the words, but the spell is flawless, leaving him looking like he just walked out of the club, not spent a month in a coffin in a numpty cave. He doesn’t seem worn out at all - neither his magic or his general health.  I don’t know what Snow did but my God did it work.

Snow. Ah, yes.  He’s still sitting on the floor, like a lump, surrounded by piles of numpty rubble we’d created and even the lid of the fucking coffin he’d ripped off with his bare hands.  He looks dazed, for certain, but no worse the wear for whatever has just occurred between he and Basil.

I suppose, actually, he’s wondering the same thing I am.

What now?

++

**Baz**

I have no idea what’s going to happen now.

I’m hungry, there’s no doubt. But I’m not starving, I don’t _consciously_ feel like I haven’t eaten in several weeks.  It’s the buoy of the magic Snow gave me, I know, I can still feel it cresting through me.

 _Simon Snow_ gave _me magic_ . He pushed it out and into me and, Morgana, that is not _possible_ .  That cannot be.  But it _was._ Simon Snow ripped the lid off a coffin and slayed numpties and, in a situation I’ll surely have to hear all about later, came to cooperate and collaborate with my Aunt Fiona all to get to me. Then he looked at me and held me.

Simon Snow, the person I was sure I would someday end up locked in brutal, mortal combat with.  Simon Snow, who I am hopelessly in love with.

I guess that’s what it comes down to.

I could pretend this all means nothing.

But after weeks locked away in a coffin not sure if I was going to get out, I find I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to pretend anymore.

So I look down at Snow, still sitting there, unsure. “Come along, Snow. I know you’re always starving.”

And then I do the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my whole life.

I hold my hand out to him.

And he takes it.

++

**Simon**

I’m holding Baz’s hand and it’s electric.

And not because of magic.

Because I’m holding. Baz’s. hand.

I pull myself up and he sneers at me, the same sneer I have seen a thousand times before, and it makes me feel so grounded, so seen, so known.  Baz doesn’t think I’m THE CHOSEN ONE. Baz doesn’t see me as THE SAVIOR OF ALL MAGES. Baz _hates_ thinking of me as THE MAGE’S HEIR.

I’m just _Simon Snow_ to him.

And that’s enough.

I pull myself up, holding his hand, and without letting myself get tangled or twisted or tripped on my words and my fears and all the reasons this is doomed, and I look at Baz, rescued and here and hungry.

And I kiss him.

++

**Baz**

What an incredibly terrible situation for my first kiss: a filthy, decimated numpty den where I’ve been kept as prisoner, my aunt looking on in horrified disbelief, my stomach roiling after having fed on only blood for weeks. It couldn’t BE less ideal.

Except the person kissing me is Simon Snow.

Which makes this the perfect first kiss.

++

**Fiona**

I remember the day Natasha told me she was going to marry a _Grimm_ .  I curled my lip in disgust and laughed right in her face. “They’re _farmers_ , Natasha. Farmers.  We’re Pitches.  Beneath you doesn’t even begin to do it justice. How can you even -”

She smiled serenely and reached out to clasp our hands together.  “Oh Fee.  That doesn’t matter.  He’s the most brilliant man. He adores me and I am absolutely _mad_ about him.  We’re in love.  That’s all that matters.” And then she’d laughed her beautiful laugh, the joyful one that rang out like bells.

Merlin, how I have missed that laugh.

Maybe it’s Basilton’s turn to learn to laugh that way.

Still, we really do have to get some food in him before he passes out. We can deal with the next set of crises involving the Mage’s Heir after Baz has had some McDonald’s.

I clear my throat. “Gentlemen, we should go.”

++

**Simon**

I don’t ever want to stop kissing Baz.

But I guess the rest of the world is waiting.  This will be some mess to sort out.

I reluctantly pull away, I think Baz would stand here kissing me until he fainted from hunger.  I dunno exactly why but the idea of that sort of … turns me on.  I’m disturbed.

“Let’s go,” I breathe against his mouth, and I mean it in so many ways.

++

**Baz**

I hold his hand as we follow my Fiona out of the numpty den.

“I cannot believe you ran away from Watford in the middle of the night with my crazed aunt,” I tease him. “What in Merlin’s name is Bunce going to say about that, hmmm Snow?”

He ducks his head and then squeezes my hand. “You called me Simon before.”

“I did not,” I answer.

++

**Simon**

He _did_.

We step out in London, into the great unknown of what happens next.


	2. Raised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I saw you.  
> I held you.  
> I wanted you.

_I saw you._  
_I held you._  
_I wanted you._

(Chapter 84)

++

**Lucy**

My magic artefact is a piece of amber. I have loved it since before I even knew what it could do, entranced by the rich color, the small flakes locked so serenely inside it. “It’s from the 14th century dear, do be careful.” But my mother shouldn’t have worried, I treasured that stone. The first year I came to Watford I had it set in a pendant and then it was always with me, a warm and solid presence around my neck, there when I needed to cast or just be soothed by running my fingers along it.

Davy adored my pendant. “It’s a healing stone, a powerful magic.”

I used to love it when Davy thought things about me were lovely and powerful.

 _Used_ to.

++

Now I’m out here, every day the baby gets stronger and stronger, and every day I feel farther away from who I used to be.  I want to believe in Davy and some days I still can.  I believe in the fire in his heart and the sweet rhythm of his words.  Our child will be the greatest mage who ever lived and we will all do great things.

We.

We.

I have to hold onto _we_ or else … or else it means that Davy only cares about _himself_.

++

One of my favorite things to do is sit at the open window and sing Simon songs ( _Simon, Simon, Simon,_ my beloved boy) while rubbing my belly with one hand and holding my pendant with the other. I think that maybe some part of me is trying to center my magic, soothe Simon. _Balance_ Simon.  There’s no way to explain how it feels inside me, it’s more than being pregnant. Sometimes it feels like Simon is using me to drain up all the magic in the world.

And I’m scared.

Because I want to give it to him. Because I love him so much I want to give it _all_ to him.

And I’m scared.

Because if I tried to tell Davy, if I tried to explain it to him … I think he might be alright with that.  I think that might be what his plan has been all along.

But what does that mean for me?  And, in an even more horrifying thought, what does that mean for the kind of life he wants Simon to have?

++

The time is getting closer.  I can feel it in every inch of my skin.  It’s almost time. It’s late one night and Davy and I are sitting by the fire.  I’m slipping in and out of sleep (Simon makes me so, so tired.)

“Davy,” I say, my voice a whisper, “what kind of life do you think Simon will have?”

“Why, Lucy, I told you. He’ll be the savior – the greatest mage the world –“

I cut him off. The words spill out, I’ve been rolling them over and over in my head. “No, no.  What kind of _life_ do you think he’ll have?  What will his hobbies be, do you think? Do you think he’ll be bookish or like football more? What subjects do you think he’ll be best at?  Do you think he’ll be funny? An extrovert? Shy? What kind of _person_ do you think he’ll be?”

He stares into the fire for a long time. “I – he’ll be a strong boy, Lucy. Powerful.  Clever. Of course clever, of course so powerful.  He’ll be – he’ll be _the vessel_. He’ll be a leader.”

A leader? _Powerful_? But I want him to be clumsy, to love football even though he's rubbish at it.  I want Simon to laugh when he feeds the chickens with me, to make a mess when he eats marmalade and toast and gets crumbs everywhere.  Oh, I do want him to help Davy bring justice and equality and all that – I want him to do great things and I trust he will. But I don’t want Simon to be a _vessel_. I want him to be a _child_. 

When I look at Davy again, he’s still staring at the fire but his eyes … his eyes seem distant, and I know his thoughts are not anywhere near me or this conversation.

I hold my pendant and smooth a hand over my belly over and over again.

++

The quickening comes on so fast.

I call for Davy and he holds my hand through the whole time and kisses my forehead and tells me I can do it – that it is time for Simon, Simon’s great time has come at last.

There is so much pain and I can feel my magic – _all_ the magic in the world it feels like – centering into one spot and that spot is my baby, my Simon.

Davy held him up to me, kissing me, kissing Simon.  And I thought how beautiful and right it was, how I had been afraid for nothing. We’d be a family, it would be all be fine. 

He placed Simon in my arms and I held him close to my chest, skin to skin, and I felt my magic skitter out of control. It was all draining away, it was too much, too much for anyone to survive. _We’d got something wrong,_ I wanted to tell Davy, _we were off about something._

I pressed Simon closer, I held on.

I felt some ominous premonition prickle along my skin.  I remembered Davy calling Simon _the vessel_.  I thought of how he never, ever left my side while I was pregnant. Never, ever gave me a chance to reach out to anyone or leave our little cottage.

A very dark thought entered my head. What if...what if Davy hadn't gotten anything wrong? What if...he'd meant for this to happen? Why, that would mean he didn't care what happened to me. It would mean he'd planned to ... _use_ Simon. 

And then I hear Davy’s voice, feverish and wild.  He doesn’t sound at all like the boy I fell in love with on the lawn at Watford.  He sounds … he sounds _crazed._ “Our savior has come! The Greatest Mage arrives!”

No.  _No_. He’s not The Greatest Mage. He’s my son. My rosebud boy. _No_.

But I am slipping away, I am almost gone.  I can feel my magic, I can feel it all, floating away. 

Davy reaches out to take Simon right out of my arms and I don’t feel like it’s a father reaching out to his son.  I feel menace.  I feel a hunger from Davy greater than any I ever felt from Simon.  And I need to fight it.  But I’m so weak.

“Simon,” I whisper as Davy leans in, hands grasping.

And my beautiful Simon opens his blue eyes and looks right at me.  I think it’s going to be my last sight. But, in that second, Simon reaches up and grabs onto my pendant, still staring right into my eyes.

It’s like a puzzle piece, a piece of my heart, clicking into place. It’s like the natural balance of everything has righted itself.  I feel my magic and Simon’s magic flowing together, stronger than anything I've ever felt.  His tiny, perfect hand holds on to my pendant and I know _this_ is how we’re meant to be.

“Lucy,” Davy hisses, “give me the boy.  It’s time, the solstice is here. I must – he must -  _give ..._  I mean, I want to hold him – _Lucy, give it to me_!”

His voice is so ugly. IT. I'm not sure if he means the magic that's flowing like water over me and Simon or if he's so disconnected that he's begun to think of our son as "it" - a vessel, an object, a _tool_.

And this is _all_ so wrong. He wants my Simon. He wants him for all the wrong reasons.  I know, in this second, something very dark will happen if Davy gets his hands on Simon. Not just for me, not just for Simon, but for the whole world of mages.

And I’m not going to let that happen.

Davy is _lunging_ for us, can you believe it?  But Simon is gurgling in my arms and I feel the world, my magic, tilt and realign itself. We are so strong. Our magic is almost a living force. Simon holds even tighter to my amber pendant and I look into _his_ eyes as I cast, without another thought or even glance, “ _Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.”_

Davy falls to the ground.

His hands are still stretched out, they’re curled up and I can’t help but think they look like … claws.

He’s dead.

 _We’re free_.

++

I spell one of the chickens to go get Mitali, telling her where we are and that I’m in crisis.  I know she’ll come, she’s that kind of friend. My magic seems to have stabilized, as if that one spell has burned through whatever it was Davy had tried to do, as if Simon and I have used my pendant to balance something.

I’ll never for the rest of my life forget the look on Mitali's face when she arrives.

“Davy was up to bad things,” I say as she stares at the scene, her mouth hanging open.

“I – is that – I didn’t even know you were – “ She’s pregnant too, I note, quite pregnant.  Well, won’t that be lovely?  Maybe our children can grow up to be best friends.

“His name is Simon,” I say. “Simon Snow Salisbury.  And we’re going to be part of _your_ revolution, Mitali.”

My smile is radiant and Simon, he coos with joy.

++

**Baz**

I have loathed Simon Salisbury since we were kids.  I imagine since we met at age 6 in the Watford nursery.  

I loathe Simon Salisbury and his best friend Penelope Bunce for everything they represent.  They, along with their _peace-love-revolution_ mothers, want to overturn everything the Families stand for.  They have seats in the Coven and they fight with the Families all the time. Agitators, is what they are.

My mother is the Headmaster of Watford and one of the most powerful Mages alive. And yet sometimes she even listens to their hare-brained ideas and seems “willing to discuss it.” When I’ve complained about the ridiculousness of this, she just smiles indulgently at me and kisses my forehead. “Now Basilton, we must remember we’re all in this together, even the low magicians, even the pixies. We've got to live together.”  

But I have never loathed Simon Salisbury more than the day the Crucible put us together as roommates. I ran to my mother’s office that very night, begged her to undo it.  She frowned. “Basilton, the Crucible doesn’t make mistakes.  You and Simon must figure out why you have ended up together.”

 _Ended up together_.  Simon Salisbury and I will never end up together.

++

**Simon**

I’ve been in love with Baz since we were 12. I think I love him more than my Mum’s sour cherry scones (which ARE even better than Cook Pritchard’s, not that I’d ever tell her that.) or the way my Mum still comes in and hums me to sleep every night during the summer and school breaks and we both pretend every teenager’s mum does the same.

I’ve been in love with Baz since we were 12. And now we’re 15. And this is the year I’m going to make him see we’re supposed to be together. Even if I have to follow him around all year to make him get it.

“I choose you,” I’ll say and that’ll wipe the smirk off his face – because I know that’s what Baz wants most of all. (I think I do too.)

We're going to end up together and _Crowley_ it'll be amazing. 

++

**Lucy**

We have a good life, me and Simon.  When he asked about his Dad, back when he was little, I told him he died the night he was born but he loved him so much and he wanted Simon so much.  And that was all true.  When he got older, I told him more of the truth – that something sad had made his father forget who he was, but I’d always remember.  In fact, that’s why he and I had to be dedicated to making the magickal world better, in his Dad’s memory.

I don’t think I’ll ever tell him about the spell. But maybe. Maybe someday he’ll need to know.

In the meantime, I sent him off to Watford with my pendant, the one that saved us both all those years ago.  I know he’s going to have a lovely time there. I hope he falls in love, just like I did. He’s going to be a powerful and crafty mage, there’s no doubt. But he’s not a savior or a sacrifice, he’s just my Simon. My rosebud boy.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucy got the raw end of the deal. I wanted to write a 'verse where Lucy is strong and manages to escapes from Davy's abuse and, consequently, Simon has a normal, beloved life. And hey it gave me a chance to write a short version of "What if they met as kids?" and still work canon into a timeline where Baz isn't a vampire and Natasha Grimm-Pitch is still alive. And where they are still meant for each other, of course! ;)


	3. Discovered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _If Penelope were here, she’d make me explain myself._   
>  _Thank magic she isn’t here yet._

_If Penelope were here, she’d make me explain myself._

_Thank magic she isn’t here yet_.

(Chapter 65)

++

**Agatha**

Of all the places I imagined Penny was dragging me off to on Christmas Eve morning, the Pitch Family Manor is probably near the bottom. Maybe the very bottom.

“Penny, do you know where we _are_?” I ask, which is probably dumb because of course she knows where we are, she cast the directions.

She gives me an apologetic smile. “I knew you wouldn’t come if I told you.”

“What are we doing here?  Is this a _mission_? I don’t want to do another mission on Christmas Eve, Penny! The werewolves were bad enough and I –“

She clicks her tongue. “It’s not a mission, exactly.  It’s just … a project. We’re doing a project.”

“ _You_ are doing a project with _Baz_ and you have to be here on Christmas Eve?” I can’t believe she’s tricked me into coming along on another mission.  Fantastic. We’re probably about ten minutes away from casting runes and spelling a troll. One of the reasons I broke up with Simon is I am so tired of all this fated and Chosen One stuff.

“Just come on, it’ll … it’ll make more sense in a minute.”

I throw my Volvo into park and give Penny a withering glare. “Somehow I doubt it.”

++

**Penelope**

I’m worried if I tell her that Simon is also here she’ll never get out of the car. I guess I was surprised when I got Baz’s message – well, I wasn’t surprised he’d kept working on who killed his mother, that’s not the kind of project you just set aside. But I was surprised that somehow he and Simon had figured out something _together_.  Wasn’t Simon still at Watford?  How had he and Baz ended up together at Pitch Manor?  Baz left a message on my phone, his tone impatient.

_Hello Bunce._

_Snow and I have made some progress and have some new info. I am assuming you’ve gained some info from your father. Snow and I are at Pitch Manor, we should get together to have a briefing._

_Come at once if convenient. If inconvenient, come all the same._

Well, I couldn’t resist that – even if it were Christmas Day.

After we knock on the door (they have an enormous doorknocker, of course) I nervously hop from side to side while Agatha smooths her hair down and draws herself up into perfect posture, making her look as effortlessly elegant as a Disney Princess.

A woman dressed in black dress and a white apron opens the door, which I think probably weighs about a thousand pounds.

“Hi. I’m here – we’re here – my name is Penelope Bunce and – this is Agatha Wellbelove and we’re here to see Baz and Si –“ I give a small cough to cover. “so can you let him know we’re here?”

Agatha gives one of the frowns that crinkles up her nose. “He’s expecting us, thank you.”

The woman gives a curt nod and makes a small gesture inviting us inside. We step into the Manor and she holds her hands out for our coats. We shrug them off and she takes them to a closet the size of my bedroom right to the left of the doorway. She’s not using magic for any of it which makes me realize … Baz’s maid is a Normal.

“I’ll announce to Master Pitch you’ve arrived. Please wait here.”

OK, she’s a Normal but she still says “Master Pitch” – that’s more like it! Agatha nods as the woman heads down the long hall.

Well, I’m not waiting out here in Baz’s creepy foyer like some sort of extra on _Downton Abbey_ , I can assure you of that. I give her a few more steps and then take off right after her, casting a hushed “ _quiet as a mouse_ ” to muffle any footsteps.

“Penny, we need to wait!” Agatha’s voice is urgent. “There’s _rules_.”

I scoff. “Oh Agatha, she’s just going to come back and tell us to follow her. Baz is expecting us, there’s no reason to wait.”

I charge ahead and Agatha, after making another low noise of distress, follows after me.

“We’re just saving time,” I reassure her, also hoping that maybe the element of surprise will help her get over that I didn’t mention Simon is here too. And it _will_ be no big deal, I think, as we speed along behind Baz’s maid.  Simon and Baz are on truce, after all, so it’s not like they’ll be dueling in the library or anything.

“Baz is expecting us,” I repeat. “It’s not like we’re going to be interrupting anything.”         

++

**Agatha**

The first thing I think is somehow Penny’s _quiet as a mouse_ backfired or something and turned into some kind of spell that is making me delusional. Then I think maybe Pitch Manor is possessed or cursed with some dark magickal energy. These thoughts fly through my head in about a split second, all while a voice in my head is screaming, just absolutely screaming, I can’t be seeing what I think I’m seeing.

Because standing here in the doorway of Baz’s library, side by side with Penny and Baz’s Normal maid (who is distracted from clearing her throat to announce us when she glances over and notices we’re right beside her) I cannot possibly be seeing –

++

**Penelope**

At first, I really do think Baz is biting Simon.  _“Well, there you go_ ,” I think for a second. _“Simon was right all along and Baz is a villain.”_ I reach for my ring to spell him when I look just a little bit closer and realize … that’s not what is happening at all.

They are snogging. Merry Morgana, are they ever!  Baz and Simon are frantically snogging, there’s no other word for it. They’re holding hands – wait, only one hand. Simon has – Merlin – Simon has his other hand inside Baz’s shirt and he’s rubbing Baz’s skin and it looks like Baz is pushing into his touch as well as bending down towards Simon, pressed so close to him – and oh for magic’s sake this is a little too lewd for me to be witnessing.

++

**Agatha**

I make a noise. I am not sure how to describe it. A gasp? A squeak? Something in-between or a little bit of both?

It’s enough to startle Baz’s maid into action. She opens her mouth to announce us but nothing comes out. She looks confused but I realize Penny’s _quiet as a mouse_ has managed to make her temporarily mute – _great Penny spelled a Normal_ – so instead she waves her hands around.

NOT like that’s going to distract Simon and Baz who are – who are – does Simon have his hands _inside Baz’s clothes_? Simon only once ever put his hand under my shirt and it was still _over_ my bra. (It’s not that Simon and I didn’t like being…intimate but it’s not like we had a ton of alone time between life or death quests, prophecies, selkies, serpents, chimeras, and the like. That’s part of why I broke up with him, really. I needed a little more than a few kisses, even though they were perfectly fine, in-between being on hold for death.) And now Simon’s – he’s right on his tippy-toes and pushing into Baz and pulling open his shirt and –

Baz’s poor Normal maid is waving her hands around and trying to get her feet to make some noise while she stomps them and Penny’s eyes are the size of saucers and Baz and Simon, well, they’re –

++

**Penelope**

Oh alright, fine. It was probably a bad idea to spell the Normal maid. It was probably a bad idea to not wait for her to come back. It was probably a bad idea to drag Agatha along in the first place.

Agatha is making soft squeaking-gasps as the maid whirls her hands around and, I can imagine, screams at the top of her lungs trying to actually get a sound to come out.

And Simon and Baz? We’ll they’re still snogging so hard I think they might topple over and I swear to David Bowie if Simon rips his shirt off I don’t know WHAT I’ll do. I sigh. Catastrophes do seem to follow Simon Snow around but I surely wasn’t expecting the one that’s about to happen when I clear my throat.

Simon jumps away from Baz so quickly it’s like he’s been teleported.  He turns to face us with shock writ large across his face, his eyes darting madly between me, the maid, and Agatha, who’s still making that little squeaking-gasp. Baz takes a huffy breath and then tries to look nonchalant but I am _so_ not buying that.

Before anyone can say anything I tilt my head and look at Baz. “I accidentally…um…your maid.”

He nods. “Vera, thank you for showing the ladies in.  It’s very important _family_ business.  Business of the _Families_ , you know. Please go see my father immediately.” She opens her eyes and then bobs her head up and down frantically and gives us both a dirty look – she might not know I spelled her but she’s plenty angry we followed her – before dashing out of the doorway.

I cross my arms and stare at Simon and Baz. Here we are.  The moment of reckoning.

++

**Baz**

Here we are.  The moment of reckoning. Snow jerked away from me in a blink, pulling his hand away as he immediately stopped rubbing my stomach. We might as well be on different planets now.

I can see it all play out so perfectly clear. 

How Snow will rush to Agatha and throw himself at her feet – “I’m not even gay!  He just wanted to kill himself and it got out of hand! We’re on truce, that’s all! I’m not even gay!”

How Bunce will grab her ring and hex me, shouting, “I knew we couldn’t trust you!”

How Agatha will run, tears streaking beautifully and dramatically from her face, and tell every single person she knows, so that all the Families know, so that everyone in the whole bloody magickal world knows: _Basilton Grimm-Pitch is a fairy. And not the kind that tastes good with a little soupçon of garlic – the QUEER KIND!_

This is how it all ends.  Less than 24 hours of snogging Simon Snow and this is how it all ends, right here in my library where just a second before we were all tangled up together.

At least I had that.

Then I see him take a big breath, nod once, and tilt his jaw forward.  Oh, how many times have I seen this? Snow setting his chin against the world – what a familiar sight. Can this possibly mean…

He holds his hand out to me, his palm open wide. Without a thought, I reach over and interlace my fingers with his.

I squeeze and he squeezes back.

++

**Simon**

Or not.

What if I stopped shrugging and stopped _not_ thinking and stopped making lists of all the things I can’t have. I’m not having Baz thrown in a tower and I’m bloody well not going to let him weep over my body in private.

What if I help him find who killed his mum, he’ll help me fight the Humdrum, and then …

What if that _all_ starts now. Holding his hand, telling Penny and even Agatha.  What if I stop being the Mage’s Heir and stop doing what everyone says and do what I want? And what I want is to work with Baz, fight with Baz, (in an _exciting_ way instead of a _someone’s gonna die_ way) and solve things with Baz and kiss Baz. _Crowley, do I want to do that._

I think of Baz’s voice, sweet and low, sending my heart hammering – _“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. Almost since we met…”_

A long time.

He slept in my arms last night. And it wasn’t fitful at all. It was like we _fit_.

I squeeze his hand and he squeezes back.

++

**Penelope**

I’m about to open my mouth to say something – I’m not even sure what – when Agatha cuts me off.  Her voice is practically a shout and I think I’ve only ever heard Agatha shout when I’ve drug her into a life or death situation.

“Simon! He’s a _villain_! Baz is _evil!_ ”            

“No – I mean, yeah. I mean, no.” Simon stumbles. “He’s a villain – well he’s not a villain. He’s definitely not evil. He’s – just. He’s Baz.”

I roll my eyes. “Simon. You were supposed to be on _truce_ not –“ I gesture wildly from side to side. “I don’t even know what this is.”

Baz shrugs and ugh then there’s that little half-smirk he has, the one that makes Simon immediately start muttering about plots. Except now Simon is looking at that smirk with adoration and a little glint in his eyes and – you know I’ve never regretted befriending Simon. Not even when I’ve been chasing down every kind of monster or bleeding from the skin or feeling the Humdrum suck out the very air around me. But if he’s involved in some kind of love-hate romantic comedy that involves constantly snogging Baz Grimm-Pitch, well I might just reconsider.

“He’s my boyfriend,” Simon blurts.

“Merlin, Simon.” I sigh.

“Right?” Simon says, looking over at Baz.  Isn’t that just like Simon? He didn’t even bother to ask Baz before declaring they were dating.

Baz’s half-smirk turns into a full smile. “Right,” he says and I’m not sure I’ve ever heard someone sound more satisfied.

“Some truce,” I mutter.

++

**Agatha**

I can just tell they’re all waiting for me to swoon or something. Like I’m going to clutch my chest and shout of Simon’s betrayal.

But I’m the one who broke up with him. And it wasn’t because I wanted to Baz, thank you very much. I always knew Simon wasn’t _my_ chosen one.  I did. I knew it from the first time he came back, not dead, and everyone expected me to be there with a crown of flowers and a radiant smile. But I what I really wanted to do was shout at him, “This is _mad_ , Simon! You’re going to DIE! We’re just kids! Stop letting the Mage force you into this!”

Only … only I never got to yell with Simon much less _at_ him. It always had to be what people were expecting. Honestly, I don’t think even Simon knew what he was expecting. Just what he thought he was supposed to; crowns of flowers, radiant smiles, happily ever after in some little cottage with me by his side because, well, because.

I think I loved Simon.  I know I loved some moments with him. But I’m done with “just because.”  I don’t know what that means for me but even that feels kind of … grand.

I roll my eyes and flip my hair over my shoulder. “Well, we’re not dating anymore so if you want to date a villain that’s up to you, Simon. I’m not sure why you all think I’m going to wilt like some little flower. You think I’ve never met any bi guys?”

Penny gives a little half-laugh, half-gasp and Baz’s eyebrows arch.  I cross my arms over my chest.

I have a feeling Baz won’t have a problem yelling at Simon.  And you know? I think that might be better for him than any crown of flowers.

++

**Simon**

I said it. _I said it._

Penny didn’t run out or turn her face up in disgust and Agatha didn’t faint or spit at me.

And he said it too.

++

**Penelope**

No one ever said being Simon Snow’s best friend was going to be easy. At least I don’t have to worry about that love triangle between him and Baz and Agatha anymore.  And maybe now he’ll stop endlessly pestering me about what I think Baz is plotting.

“Hey, Baz,” I finally look past him and Simon, they’re still clutching each other’s hands, “Is that – did you start on a board for us to work with? _Excellent_.”

I see sheer relief wash over Simon’s face. 

Although, honestly, I feel like I could fill out quite a bit on the “what we know” side of the board now. But. We can deal with boyfriend part later.  There’s mysteries to be solved.

++

**Baz**

Agatha immediately begins to strenuously complain – but not about what I was expecting. “I didn’t come here to get involved in another one of your schemes, you know. It’s Christmas Eve.”

“But Agatha it’s really very important. You see,” Penny’s begins.

But I am barely listening. I turn to face Snow. I need just this – just a minute. He smiles at me and it’s all so ridiculous.

_Boyfriend._

Crowley, this **is** a charmed life.

And I like this better than fighting too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First - thanks to everyone for all the comments and kudos and bookmarks, they've all made me smile so much and I appreciate y'all for reading this weird story in this tiny fandom. Though I have the ideas for the next two chapters, I would LOVE to hear about (or read your fic) any "what ifs..." in this universe YOU'RE fascinated with. And basically any feedback or suggestions on this are wildly loved.
> 
> They get SO CLOSE to getting caught, right? I couldn't resist! Also I like Agatha, so I wanted to give her a chance to totally show how clued in she is. (more of that in other chapters...) 
> 
> Also, as a fan of _Veronica Mars_ (Logan/Veronica 4ever) I always wanted to write my own version of that scene where Logan goes ahead and decides holding Veronica's hand is the most important thing. I melt at [this scene](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rkhgiqlf5ro) every time. And this was the PERFECT place for it.


	4. Sated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I’m pulling back,” he says._
> 
> _And then he does. It feels like the tide going out – if the tide were made of heroin and fire._
> 
> _(Chapter 48)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Thanks for all the kudos and the comments, I love them so much, they really make writing this magical! I'm gonna reply to everyone. <3 Sorry for the delay, I had some computer issues and lots of work, but this is definitely going to be complete soon. Rating has changed because, uh, things get _naughty_ in this chapter so check tags and be warned if that's not your scene. More info in notes after the story.

* * *

* * *

_“I’m pulling back,” he says._

_And then he does. It feels like the tide going out – if the tide were made of heroin and fire._

_(Chapter 48)_

++

**Simon**

It was easy. It was easy because I didn’t worry at all and because when I pushed it out it ran into Baz like lightening; it burned quick and clean. It felt like we were in the stars, in the sky.  Baz cast some simple rhyme and then it was like we were among the cosmos and for once in my life it was like I actually understood magic, how it was supposed to feel if you could call it up, _use_ it.

It wasn’t like when I gave it to him during the dragon fight. Maybe because it was dark, in our room and we were side by side holding hands. Maybe that was why.  Because this wasn’t battle it was … well, this was intimate. Maybe it was because we were in the stars.

And then I pulled back.  This was just an experiment after all, just to see.  It didn’t mean anything, it was just an experiment.

There was a giant _woosh_ of feeling as my magic sucked back in. I took a deep breath and let my magic settle. I blinked twice and looked at Baz.  Baz was staring at me and, for what felt like the first time, he looked totally at loss. At first I assumed it was only because of the magic I’d just suffused him with but then … then I felt the wetness at my crotch. _Oh._ He was looking at that way because _oh_ –

Sometime when we were off in the stars looping our magic together I’d come right in my pants.

++

**Baz**

This is some kind of combination of every nightmare I’ve ever had and some new horror I couldn’t quite imagine.  I feel panic rising up in my chest, the fear of a cornered animal. I try to keep my face neutral, to not let the horror show on my face.

I’ve come in my pants in front of Simon Snow and now he _knows_ now he _must_ know and he’s staring at me with unabashed horror because there I am, a fool for him and he knows it and – wait, not quite.

Well, this is rich.

Simon Snow has come in his pants too.

++

**Simon**

We’re still holding hands and sitting very close to each other on Baz’s bed and I’ve – I’ve –

I pull away from Baz so quickly I almost topple over.  I feel flushed all over, sticky and embarrassed. Baz looks at me with a supremely satisfied smirk.  He’s going to mock me, he’s never going to stop mocking me and I can never give him magic again – I can never give anyone magic but especially not Baz, not after this. I hop off his bed and back slowly away, staring down at the floor.

“Oh don’t be a pratt, Snow,” Baz drawls lazily. “It happened to me too.”

I trip over my feet, startled by his casual admission. “It must have been – it had to be – uh -  I wasn’t… I don’t … um … it was –“ I can’t seem to get a whole sentence out.

“Yes, Snow. It was just the magic. _Obviously_.  No need to have a gay panic about it all.” Baz’s voice sounded almost diffident.

I jerked my head up and stare directly at him, forcing myself to hold his gaze. “I’m not having a gay panic! There’s nothing to panic about being gay – that’s just never happened to me – nothing like that even when my magic – ”

It might be my imagination but it looks like Baz’s smirk falters a little. But he recovers enough to cut off my stumbling speech. “Yes, well. It’s not like anyone has as much magic as you or has ever done – ever – whatever it was we just did. It was just a side effect, Snow.” He waves a hand casually towards me.

I drag my eyes from Baz, who I can barely make out in the half-light of our room.  How can it be we were just floating among the stars, using my magic to be in a whole other world? “I’m going to take a shower,” I blurt, turning around and heading for our bathroom without another look.

I turn up the water to as hot as I can stand it and carefully peel myself out of my pyjama pants.  I step into the shower and try to get lost in the patter of water.

But I can’t stop thinking of what just happened.

I can’t stop thinking about how it felt to have my magic flying between us; Baz conducting and magnifying it into something seamless and strong – how opening up to him had been as easy as breathing. The water is so warm.  I think about being in the stars, but not really because where I really was the whole time was next to Baz on his bed, our hands intertwined, our bodies so close, _so close_ , so connected by magic that the physical response had been – oh fuck it, I’m hard again.

++

**Baz**

I’m not about to step into the shower after Snow’s done, the bathroom will smell like him and the steam will still be heavy in the air and that’s just a little more than I can take tonight, thank you very much, after Simon Snow and I have achieved orgasm only a few feet apart, while holding hands and – Crowley, I have got to keep it together.

So I just cast _clean as a whistle_ and then crawl into bed. I don’t think about how maybe I’m being a little disgusting by staying in the same pants, I think about how close I was to Snow when I came, when he came too, how that’s never going to happen again and it was more than I ever thought would happen and as long as I stay in these pyjama bottoms it’s real. As I’ve said – I’m disturbed.

Snow comes out of the bathroom about twenty minutes later. I’m pretending to be asleep, of course, but I can still smell him, scrubbed clean. I just need him to get in bed and not say anything and go to sleep so we can both forget this ever happened.

Naturally that means Snow wants to have a chat.

“Baz are you awake?”

“No,” I say, my tone flat. I’m lying on my side, back turned to him.

“It’s just … that’s … just, uh, well it’s never happened before. To me, I mean, it’s never happened,” he takes a huge gulp of air “to me before.”

“Yes, Snow.” I try to make sure my tone is bored. “As I said, of course it’s never happened because no one has ever tried what we –“

He cuts me off, and his voice is ragged. “No I mean I’ve never – I haven’t – it’s never – I’ve never. You know. I’ve never, like, sex-wise, um, had that happen. To me.”

I really do mean to stay uninterested, I swear it. To shrug it off or maybe mock him, just a little, then shrug it off. But that’s as futile as pretending to be asleep. I just can’t.

I roll over and prop myself up on one elbow, staring at Snow. He’s standing in the doorway of the bathroom, wearing new pyjama bottoms.  He has a chagrined expression on his face and is doing that familiar awkward gesture of running his hand through his curly hair even though it’s still damp.

“Snow. Are you trying to tell me you’ve never had an orgasm before?” I tilt my head, waiting for him to make that frustrated growl he always makes, to roll his eyes at me and stomp to his bed, shaking his head and telling me how I’m being deliberately thick.

Instead he drops his hand, looks away from me and towards the ground. He shrugs. “Yeah.”

++

**Simon**

I dunno why I told him.  It’s late. It’s dark.  It’s just the two of us.  We’re on truce.  He already thinks I’m the biggest fuck-up and freak in the whole world of mages so why not him?

“Come again?” Baz says, pushing himself up from his bed in the position he’d been lounging in and swinging his feet to the floor.  He looks gobsmacked by my revelation.

“Um. Yeah.”

“Snow, you’re – you’re a teenage boy. Not even in dreams?”

I shrug again. And then I just say it. “The first time I thought – the summer before we turned 13 I was in the care home and I – I had a dream that was – was about – that was sexy. When I woke up instead of …  of … a tree outside the care home was ripped entirely from the ground. The second time I’d blown out the windows in the entire floor.” I shift nervously from side to side.  But I’ve never told anyone this, not even Penny or the Mage, and now it’s like the whole story has to come out.

“After that – I just tried not to have any dreams. It mostly worked. I only had them in care in the summer and they were never that serious again – just tables knocked over and pictures ripped of the walls and the like.  But I sure wasn’t going to – to – chance it with … by doing it … by seeing if, if –“

“Your magic,” he says as if it’s just dawning on him.

“Yeah. I figured.  Just one more thing. One more thing my magic messed up.”

“What about Wellbelove?”

“What about her?” I answer, honestly. “We barely had any time alone together in between classes and me constantly running off to fight the Humdrum or chasing serpents and selkies. And when we were alone we snogged some, I guess. But … but … it wasn’t like Agatha was the kind of person who would stick a hand down your trousers. So it was – never … it wasn’t an issue.”

And though I am being honest with Baz, I really am, I don’t tell him the rest of it.  It also wasn’t an issue because while Agatha was beautiful and lovely in every way, I never really _wanted_ her to stick her hand down my trousers. Agatha was too good for the likes of me. I always held myself apart from her, I always knew we had no happy ending because _I_ have no happy ending. When you combined that knowledge with the fear I had about my magic doing something terrible to anyone I was with, well – I felt a lot of things for Agatha but the desire to pull clothes off and see if my magic would explode, it was just never one of them.

“So that really was –“ Baz swallows hard, I can hear it from across the room.

“Yeah, Baz,” I say, sharply. “It really was. So you can go ahead and laugh or tell me what a rubbish mage I am because I can’t control my magic enough to have a wank or –“

“I’m not afraid.”

“What?” I’m confused.  Has he not even been listening to me pour out my whole stupid story? “What would you have to be afraid of?”

“Let’s try again,” Baz says. “I’m not afraid.”

++

**Baz**

I have no excuse for saying it, not really.

Perhaps Snow has hypnotized me with this story, with the impossible revelation that he’s never even had a wank like every other teen boy in existence and the first time was with _me_ , holding _my_ hands, on _my_ bed and – yes I think I can be forgiven for letting my good sense out the window.

I’ve no clue what Snow will have to say about this _bloody mad_ suggestion.

“I dunno, Baz - “ he does one of those shrugs he uses in place of words and rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. I can practically see the uncomfortableness rolling off him in waves. “I dunno what the point of it would be if the same thing happens and we don’t even know it’s happening while we’re in the spell.”

I suppose he’s right.  But I also know that’s not what I meant. In the dark, I can see Snow (better than he knows) and there’s a dull flush creeping up his neck and he’s biting his lip a little and intentionally not looking at me -  Crowley. He’s not wearing his cross necklace. He never takes that stupid thing off but - but - he’s not wearing it.

I think Snow knows that’s not what I meant either.

So I say the thing I will never be able to take back. The thing I could never have imagined I would _ever_ say before the truce, before my mother visited Snow, before working with Snow and chasing a dragon away and sitting on my bed and more.

I say, “Then let me touch you.”

++

**Simon**

Memories flash through my head.

_“Simon, I’m not sitting out here watching Baz play football just because, with no evidence, you think he’s plotting something,” Penny’s voice is exhausted._

_I can’t take my eyes off Baz as he runs across the pitch.  I watch him stride effortlessly, tossing his hair back and giving Rhys a grin over his shoulder. My stomach clenches up for reasons I can’t name._

_“But he_ is _plotting something! I can tell! ” I insist._

_Penny sighs, throws up her hands, and walks away. I keep my eyes on Baz._

_*_

_Baz and I are in the catacombs, fifth year, we’re screaming at each other, he’s right in my face - so close to me we’re practically touching. I feel like we’re on the precipice of something huge, something unnameable. It’s bigger than him being a vampire, even - it’s so big I can’t even imagine it or start to name it and I think I'm ... scared.  And then Baz snarls and turns away and my heart won’t stop hammering._

_*_

_We’re working at our desks, Baz’s flying through homework and me struggling through my Magic Words assignment and I look over and - Baz’s hair falls in a lazy wave over his forehead and I suddenly have a very clear vision of myself reaching over and sweeping Baz’s hair up in my hand, pulling at his hair, pulling him near to me and -_

_“Crowley, Snow!” Baz shouts from his desk. “Snap out of it! You just set your bloody notebook on fire, you complete tosser!_

_*_

I want Baz to touch me. I think I’ve wanted Baz to touch me for a long time.

I walk over to Baz - to Baz’s bed.

“Yeah. _Yes_.” I say. “Let’s do that, okay?”

++

**Baz**

“I’m going to touch you,” I tell him as he sits down next to me; testing out the words, making sure they are real. He swallows and nods.

“You - you need … to take off your pants.” My voice doesn’t wobble, even a little, but I still can’t quite believe Snow is going actually do it.

He does.

_He does._

He stands up and slides out of his pyjama bottoms and keeps his eyes on me the whole time.  When he sits back down on my bed, right beside me, he’s naked.  He nods again. (I have to say I like the nods much better than the shrugs.)

“I’m going to touch you,” I repeat it, I might never stop saying it now that I get to say it, but this time I go on. “And if you feel like your magic is too much and something is going to happen, you can just reach out and you can -” my voice finally cracks, just the littlest bit, “you can push it into me.  We know I can take it.”

“Yeah,” he exhales.

I lean over and inhale the scent of Snow’s skin (like always he smells like smoke, like the first fire of the winter, everything new beginning) then I reach down and take his cock in my hand.

++

**Simon**

I’m half hard just from from my memories of wanting him (that’s what they were, I know now, those were memories of _wanting_ Baz) and from his careful and deliberate instructions: telling me to take my clothes off, telling me how he was going to touch me - it’s almost unbearable.

It seems like Baz has wanted to touch me for a long time.

“Snow,” he says, and there’s something like delight in his voice, “you’re already - oh, that’s good.”

I nod, not like he can see me, because he’s looking down at his hand on my and his face is practically buried in my neck and I know he’s smelling me and I nod. “Just need a little more,” he whispers and casts _slippery when wet_ as he strokes down. The instant sensation of wetness and Baz’s hand holding onto my prick as he’s stroking me and I can’t help it. I growl, a rough noise from the back of my throat and I push up, push up into Baz’s touch. He strokes again and and again. I’ve never (consciously) been this hard and it feels _bloody amazing_.

And my magic is holding fine - it doesn’t feel any different, it doesn’t feel like it’s welling up so I suppose I don’t have any reason to touch Baz, that was only for if the magic was going to explode.

“Baz,” I gasp, “Baz - wait, stop.”

He pulls back immediately and I take a second to look at how actually _beautiful_ Baz is, his pale skin, that hair falling down over his grey eyes.  He’s gulping down air and I think he might even be shaking a little.

“I - I - didn’t mean - well, I did mean stop but not because … not because I don’t - I really _do_ \- I - my magic is fine, Baz - so I -”

He sneers at me. “So you’re done with this experiment, then?” His tone is icy.

“No - _no_ . My magic is fine, but - but -” I’m choking on it, on saying what I want. It’s _so_ hard.  I can’t think of things like this, I can’t think of wanting, I _don’t_ do this or else then I think about everything I’m going to lose.  But if I can’t say it, if I can’t let myself _want_ then Baz is going to pull away from me and this will all be broken forever and after that I’m not quite sure if I’d be able to carry on.

I have to say it.

“Baz. I want to touch you too.”

The sneer falls from his face and he leans in close. I can _hear_ the smile in his voice as he whispers, “You won’t need the spell.”

And I laugh.

*

He pulls off his pyjama pants off in the single least graceful movement I’ve ever seen Baz Grimm-Pitch make (are those the same bottoms he was wearing before?) and then shucks off his shirt. Before I can think twice, before I can remember that I’m the Chosen One and Chosen Ones don’t get to have moments like this, Baz takes my prick in his hand again and pushes so close. We’re side by side and he’s right there and said I could and so I do. I touch him.

He’s hard. He’s hard and there was already some pre-come on his prick; just from touching me, just from having his hands on me and breathing into the crook of my neck. _Merlin_. I jerk him too hard, I think, I’m nowhere near as smooth as him. But he doesn’t seem to mind, not in the slightest, because he ruts up into my hand and strokes me in the same moment.

“Baz,” I groan.

He gasps and like it’s being ripped out from him says just one thing. “ _Simon."_

What else can I do?  I kiss him.

++

**Baz**

He’s kissing me, Simon Snow is kissing me. My first kiss.

Which to most people would probably seem unremarkable since we’re also currently wanking each other off, groaning and sweating all over each other …  but _kissing_ he never said a thing about _kissing_ I hadn’t even imagined.

Oh, it feels like a good kiss, I hope it’s a good kiss. I want to keep kissing like this, Simon’s mouth so hot on mine, Simon’s whole body heating me up like a furnace, Simon alive and on fire with me. _Because_ of me.

I take my hand off his cock and twist at the waist, still kissing him as I push him back. No more of this side-by-side nonsense. He tumbles back onto my bed and we pull apart for a second.  I crawl on top of him and he’s smiling - I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him smile this way, all the way to his eyes, he can’t stop smiling. He reaches up and kisses me again. I press down, skin to skin with Simon Snow and I have never felt more deliriously, unbelievably in love.

++

**Simon**

He’s talking me through it, he’s talking me through every second of it and he _keeps calling me Simon_.

“Simon. Simon. I want you to come for me, for the first time for me, Simon come on, you’re so close, for me Simon, sweet Simon, come on.  can feel it.”

I kiss him hard, hard enough to see the stars we were just lost in. “My magic feels fine, Baz,” I say, “This is - we’re supposed to be - this is the way -”

He strokes me faster. “Yes, Simon. Yes. This is the way it’s supposed to be.”

I come.

++

**Baz**

He bites my bottom lip when his hips thrust up and he comes in my hand and I follow him, I follow him right over.

++

**Simon**

We’re naked, tangled up in each other, covered in jizz, and both breathing like we finished a football game. I did it. I’m a normal teen boy.

Well...a normal teen boy who happens to be prophesized to save the world of mages who just had his first sexual encounter with his arch-nemesis (who I... have very strong feelings for that might be a little bit of love) who is a vampire (who won’t admit it yet). If that’s normal.

But you know? It actually feels normal. In fact, this moment feels just right. Baz mutters a drowsy _clean as a whistle_ and then cuddles up next to me, curled up in my arms, and I’m betting he thinks this feels just right too.

“We didn’t try it with my magic,” I say, wrapping my arms around Baz and pulling him close.

“We’ll just have to try that next time, then,” Baz says, and he’s so smug about it I think I’d be angry if I couldn’t wait.

I place a kiss on the top of his head. “I have a list,” I say. And I’m not that startled to find out it’s true.

++

**Baz**

I’m about to fall asleep in Simon Snow’s arms. _He has a list_. “Next time,” I whisper, “you’re not pulling back.”

Snow laughs, an airy, perfect sound in the dark of our room. “Baz, haven’t you figured it out?  I’m never pulling back from you again.”

He says it like a promise.

And I believe him. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone agrees that's what the SHARING MAGIC IN BAZ'S BED scene is a metaphor for, right? LOL! So I just decided to write that as, well, not a metaphor but literally. This turned out much longer and complicated than I thought but I couldn't resist many of my favorite tropes. There's obviously lots of nod to canon :) so I hope this works for y'all! I'd love to hear all your thoughts! Onward to the last chapter!


	5. United

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bunce is on all fours, trying to lift her head. “What’s he doing?” she rasps, then heaves again.  
> “I don’t know,” I say.  
> “Should we try to stop him?”  
> “Do you think we could?”  
> (Chapter 83)

_Bunce is on all fours, trying to lift her head. “What’s he doing?” she rasps, then heaves again._

_“I don’t know,” I say._

_“Should we try to stop him?”_

_“Do you think we could?”_

(Chapter 83)

**Penelope**

As Baz grabs me and casts _on love’s light wings_ I feel that suck, that endless suck, of the Humdrum and my head throbs like it’s about to explode.

We ascend into a room I’ve never seen before and it’s like the whole world of magic has exploded right here, into glass and light and fury. I kneel on the ground and vomit, feeling the scratch of glass against my knees.

And I know it’ll sound absolutely mad but in this moment it’s suddenly all clear to me. Maybe it’s just ‘cause I’ve been scraped raw, ‘cause there’s nothing left keeping my brain distracted. Every puzzle piece snaps into place.

… _the way Baz looks at Simon_

_how Simon jumped out of Agatha’s car on the side of the road to go back to Baz’s on Christmas, no less …_

_the way Simon spent all of fifth year following Baz, like he could never just leave him_ be

....on love’s light wings _spilling out of Baz like it was nothing_ _and we soared… but  … you can’t cast that, you can’t cast that_ unless _…_

Basilton Grimm-Pitch loves Simon Snow.

And when I put all those pieces together? I have a feeling that Simon Snow loves him back.

There’s a sound rising in the room, it’s a roar and a throb and I know it’s all building to something. It’s something about Simon and something about The Humdrum and I know it’s going to cross a line that can never be uncrossed.

“Should we try to stop him?”

“Do you think we could?”

My magic is gone and there’s gritty glass under my knees and I can taste vomit in my mouth. The suck of the Humdrum is everywhere. Agatha said the Mage was evil and he’s clawing at Simon, who’s hanging on to the Humdrum and I’m basically collapsed but I have all the pieces of all the puzzles and _Morgana_ \- I think I can fix this.

The light is getting less intense.  

This is my last chance.

Do I think we can? I think we have to try. I turn to Baz. “Save him. You love him. _Save him_.”

Baz blinks at me, his face blank. _“_ Oh come on, Baz. _On love’s lights wings_ ? You think I don’t - come on.” He arches an eyebrow but makes no other movement. “ _Save_ him, Baz _.”_

Baz screams, howls, makes a noise I can’t even describe, but it cuts through the air like a knife.

“ _Simon!_ Stop it!”

And maybe it’s just because it startles him, maybe it’s the last second, but in that second of Baz’s voice saying his name ( _Simon_ and not _Snow_ ) it’s enough.

Simon lets go of the Humdrum. He stumbles backwards. The motion throws the Mage aside and he tumbles a few feet from Simon.  The Humdrum just stands there, his little face, _Simon’s little face_ , turned up in a frown.

Simon pivots and sees Baz. He looks dazed but, well, I can also see relief.  He’s glad Baz is there.

He and Baz are running to each other, Simon doesn’t even glance back at the Mage, who I can see struggling to pull himself up. He must be feeling what I’m feeling, the Humdrum draining the room, opening up holes, taking _all the magic_ and only _wanting more_.

I got all the pieces together.  I was right.

Which means I have to tell Simon the rest of what I’ve figured out.

“You bloody _fool_ , you stupid bloody _fool_ ,” Baz shouts at Simon as he gets closer to us. “Don’t you _ever_ do that again, don’t you ever run off and leave me without  -”

Simon cuts him off, coming to a sliding stop just a few feet in front of us. “This is what I _do_ , Baz! I don’t - it wasn’t like I _wanted_ to. I wanted to - to - you know - be...stay … but I _made_ the Humdrum which means it’s my responsibility to -”

These boys are useless. They’ll stand here arguing over who gets to sacrifice more while the whole thing falls down around our ears.  I can already see the Mage pulling himself to his feet through sheer force of will, an angry, hungry look on his face directed right at Simon.  And I can feel the Humdrum gathering what’s left of the magic around us, meaning he’s still a hole and now that he’s got a taste of pure Simon, I’m betting he’ll do whatever it takes to get more.

Time for me to save the world. _Again._

I try to stand up, but I’m still wobbly and afraid I might dry heave again.  Instead I fall back on my bottom. “Stop,” I say, my voice ragged. “You have to - _together_ .  How can you pillocks not get it by now? Remember the dragon, Simon?   _I think Baz can be your artefact._ Channel through - it’ll work. I swear. Fill up the Humdrum like you want, Simon. Bloody well _finish_ him. Just,” I take shuddering breath, feel bile rise up in my throat as the Humdrum pulls with all he has. “do it _with_ Baz.”

“Oh Bunce you really are brilliant,” Baz says admiringly the same second Simon says “I can’t risk-”

In a flash, Baz tucks his wand away. Baz holds out his hand to Simon, shakes it impatiently. “Snow, come on. Let’s be heroes.”

It’s the perfect thing to say because Simon’s face lights up. And oh, what a silly fool I was, all those years when Simon couldn’t shut up about Baz. He never really wanted to fight him, he must’ve always wanted to fight _with_ him.

Simon grabs Baz’s hand and they run, together, straight towards the Humdrum.

++

**The Mage**

He was giving it all to the Humdrum, that ungrateful little whelp.

After everything I had done to _make_ Simon, to _bring_ Simon, and he was just pouring it all into the Humdrum.  

When Simon pulled away from the Humdrum, a sound like thunder hammered through my head and pushed me back. I felt the itchy lack of magic that seems to trail the Humdrum around.  He wants magic just as much as I do.  I didn’t expect the Humdrum when I created Simon, but after the first hole happened right after I brought Simon in, it wasn’t hard to figure out Simon and the Humdrum were inexorably intertwined.  I just thought it was the prophecy.  But maybe it was something else.

I had explained to Simon, _hadn’t I explained to him_ , that I’d finally figured it out how to fix it and he didn’t even listen, he just wanted to push it all into the Humdrum. And he’d figured out how to share it even before this, hadn’t he?  All that magic leaking out and he’d shared it with … with … a vampire. He’s running over here _holding hands_ with that Grimm-Pitch brat. What a ridiculous waste. All of this, a waste.

My poor, broken Simon.  What did Lucy used to call him?   _Rosebud Boy_ . Nonsense. I remade the world of Mages, Lucy. I did. And doing something so huge, well, that means things have to get broken.  I wasn’t planning for Simon to be one of the broken things, he just _was._ But I’d found a way to fix it, at last, and that would right everything.

I just couldn’t let Simon be broken anymore. I was going to fix him.  But first I had to take everything.

++

**Baz**

The Mage is stumbling towards us. He’s streaked with blood and he’s looking at Simon with a naked hunger. I suddenly understand why Wellbelove was running so fast. She wasn’t scared of the Humdrum, she was scared of whatever the Mage has now become.

Now I’m still going to kill the Mage, that’s never been more clear, but I think Bunce (and Simon too, turns out) are right - we’ve got to finish the Humdrum before we can deal with the Mage.  In fact, I am fairly certain the Mage is so desperate to get his hands on Snow because _he_ wants to drain him dry before the Humdrum can.

But no one’s draining Simon of his magic, of the way he radiates life and want; of the way he burns. I decided that for certain the second I saw him in this total chaos, hanging on to the Humdrum, his ridiculous wings spread wide. Oh, let’s be honest, I decided that for certain quite some time ago.

 _No one_ is going to hurt Simon Snow. Not while I can do anything about it.

We lurch to a stop in front of the Humdrum, in front of Snow himself, the first day I ever saw him, back at the start of all this.  I wonder if Snow said anything to him before he grabbed him and started pouring all his magic into him. What would I say? If I could go back and see Simon Snow again for the first time? The Simon-Humdrum tosses that annoying ball in the air and stares at us.

“I _hated_ you so much,” I tell him. His expression doesn’t change. I glance over at the real Simon Snow. I squeeze his hand.  And then I reach out for the Simon-Humdrum. “But I’m going to take care of you from now on.” I yank on his upper arm and pull him towards us.  From what feels like very far away, I hear the Mage’s voice, broken and harsh. “Stop!  You fools!”

Not this time, you murdering bastard.

“Go, Snow! _Now!_ ”

Simon’s magic pours through me like lighting, unfiltered and completely pure. I let myself be lighter than air, not even there, the conduit, the circuit. Simon clings to me and I cling to the Simon-Humdrum and it goes. It dances along my skin like a thousand pricks and the Simon-Humdrum is pulling at it and it _goes,_ all of it.

Everywhere is the smell of fire, the clean burn of Simon’s magic and the Humdrum just keeps taking it all.

We might die from this but at least we’ll die holding on to each other.

I think this is it - that the Simon-Humdrum will just take and take until there’s nothing left, I can feel my grip on him loosening. At first I can’t figure out why but then I see - he’s disappearing. Right under my hand, he’s vanishing.

“Goodbye,” Simon gasps, I hear the smallest bit of regret in his voice.  He’s pale but he’s still standing and he doesn’t have the same hollowed out, almost dead look like when Bunce and I first arrived. He just looks shaken.

And in the next second, the Simon-Humdrum simply vanishes, leaving me and Simon stunned ( _but alive_ ) and holding hands in the middle of the room.

Simon gives a half-choked laugh. “We defeated the Humdrum.” He squeezes my hand.

I hear a primal scream that can only have one source.

“What have you _done_ ?” The Mage howls, rising to his full height and charging towards us. “It was _mine_.”

It’s not easy to let go of Simon’s hand.  It’s not easy to step away from him in our heroic moment of triumph.  And it’s not going to be easy to do this right in front of him. For all I know he still has some moronic attachment to this madman.

But … I let my fangs descend and I pull out my wand.  I push past Simon and run towards the Mage.

This is for my mother.

++

**Simon**

I dunno what would have happened if I hadn’t heard Baz’s voice, telling me to stop, to release the Humdrum,  letting me know he was there. I dunno. Would I have held on and given him all my magic and just … just _died_?  Or withered up and not had a drop of magic left?  Maybe.

But when I heard Baz’s voice … it shouldn’t have mattered. I shouldn’t even have heard him. But I did. I did and I knew that meant … that meant he’d come for me, him and Penny, when everything in the world told them to run away, they came after me. They thought I was worth it. Even Ebb, there in that pool of blood, she’d fought back. Who was I to do otherwise?

So, I pulled away from the Humdrum and then I used Baz to channel my magic right into him and it had actually worked.  He was gone.  And - and there was no hole in his  
place.

I knew that because I could feel the magic in the room.   _I could feel my magic_. For the first time in my life, since the day the Mage had come for me after I leveled my care home, I could feel my magic the way I guessed everyone else felt it.  It didn’t feel like I was going to go off.  It didn’t feel like it was about to explode out of my skin or leak out of my pores. It just felt like an intrinsic, basic part of me. I didn’t think I could summon up a pair of wings on command or help Baz defeat a dragon. But it also didn’t feel like I’d destroy a city block if I sneezed the wrong way.

I suddenly understand everything Baz and Agatha and Penny ever told me about how magic feels, inside, down deep. Because, for the first time, I felt _normal._

I want to tell Baz, to tell him I don’t think it would have worked out that way if I hadn’t had him there to be my circuit breaker, to give just enough away, to be the valve for all the magic that had leaked right out of me. But before I can even open my mouth he’s let go of my hand and pulled out his wand.  He’s charging straight for the Mage.

I know what he’s going to do.  And I think of the Mage ranting about Baz’s mum, about how he had no regrets.  I put every little piece of our investigation together and I think I know what Baz found out from the Numpties. It’s almost more than I can bear.  I think of Ebb, that pool of blood underneath her, the way the Mage’s eyes looked right through her.  I really don’t care what happens to the Mage now.  But Baz …

Now it’s time for me to save him.

I think of what he said during that fight with the chimera. “ _Light a match inside your heart, then blow on the tinder.”_ And thanks to Baz, now I know what it means to burn.

He and the Mage are inches apart when I close my eyes and say a spell that seems easy but is really quite tricky.  It’ll only work if you understand the Great Motown Expansion of the 1960s - and if you’re stupidly in love.

**_Stop! In the Name of Love!_ **

The Mage and Baz both freeze in place, but I can see them each struggling fiercely to get free. It worked. I cast a spell like a regular mage, I called on my magic and cast a spell and it didn’t stop time or their hearts or blow the walls out.  It just _worked_.

“Simon,” Penny says from behind me, her tone somewhat disbelieving, “you cast a spell. A  clean, strong, _good_ spell.”

“I know!”

“And you can’t cast that spell unless...unless…” I can tell she’s putting all the pieces together. “You love him back! I knew it!”

I shrug helplessly.  Why bother denying anything?

Penny’s stood up and is walking briskly towards us from across the room.  I still have my wand out, pointed directly at the Mage.  The spell worked, but I know it won’t work forever.

“What’re you going to do,” Penny says, standing beside me, her eyes darting between Baz and the Mage.

I don’t have to ask if Penny will back me.  I know she will.  She always does, that’s why she wanted to run away with me, that’s the reason she’s even here at all. And I don’t have to think about what I’m going to do.

It doesn’t matter that the Mage found me. It doesn’t matter that he brought me into the world of Mages, that he made me his heir.  None of that matters at all.

I walk towards him. I get right next to his face. “You killed Ebb,” I say, my voice wobbling as it truly sinks in. “You _murdered_ her and let her lay there to try to steal ... you’re the reason ... you never cared about me. You thought I was just … a _vessel._ You lied, you **used** me - you knew I wasn’t the Chosen… and you did it all for power.” I bite back a sob. “I’m not going to let Baz ruin his life for you. You’re not worth it. _You’re not worth him._ “We’re going to find out every nasty thing you’ve ever done and you better be bloody _scared_ . You’re going to have to face the Coven. And we’re going to tell them _every_ thing you’ve done.”

I hear Penny gasp and I can see the Mage pulling madly to free himself. His face is twitching and bit by bit I think his fingers are starting to curl. Baz is struggling too, but I can’t let myself look at his face because I can’t stand it if he’s looking at me with anger or disappointment.

I have just one thing left to say to the Mage. “I’m just a regular mage now. I gave it _all_ away to make him go away. You’ll never have it,” I spit it out through clenched teeth.

I step back and pull my wand up. I think I can do regular spells now -well, I know I can, even tricky ones.  I can feel my magic, like a well, like a match, ready to pull and use and not explode. But…still. Penny probably has more magic than me at this point and I know she’ll be precise and practiced in a way I can’t hope to be now. “Penny,” I turn to her and I try to tell her everything in just one look. “Can you … can you do something so he can’t get away?”

Her look is fierce and firm and every single thing that makes Penelope Bunce the cleverest mage of her age. Everything that makes her my best friend. She twists her ring, stares right at the Mage, and says in the loudest, clearest voice I’ve ever heard: **_“Mama said knock you out.”_ **  He collapses on the spot into an undignified heap and he doesn’t get up.

I walk back over to him and poke at him with my foot.  He doesn’t move.  I think about Ebb, the blood staining her hair, the way she’d make me tea.  I pull my foot back and kick.  He doesn’t move.

So now comes the hard part.  I turn away from the Mage and face Baz.  I point my wand and pull the spell back. (Yet again, I’m stunned that it works. I can work magic now.)

Baz can move.  This is my truest moment of reckoning.

++

**Baz**

I could still kill him.  In fact, it’d be easier now that Bunce has used American rap music to completely incapacitate him. I could spell him, _bite him_ , in the blink of an eye.  Isn’t that what my mother wanted? _No._ No, what my mother asked for wasn’t murder, wasn’t blood, wasn’t vengeance or even justice. What justice can there ever be for my mother’s murder, for what happened to me right in front of her eyes as she died?

My mother wanted _peace_.

And I don’t think me ruining my life would bring my mother peace.

I put my wand away.

I look at Simon, I try to tell him everything with my eyes. “He killed my mum,” I say.

“I...I guessed,” Simon’s voice is whisper soft. “Baz, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

It’s that he doesn’t add a but. He just says he’s sorry.  In that moment, I suddenly feel the weight of everything that’s happened, of everything I know now. I heave a loud, pained sob, it breaks out of me without any warning. And then Simon is there, Simon is right beside me. He reaches out to hold me and I throw my arms around his waist, trying to avoid his _wings_ of all things, and pull him close. I rest my head on his chest and sob.  

“It’s going to be okay.” Simon wraps both his arms around me.  “It’s all right, love.”

++

**Penelope**

I  turn away to let Simon and Baz have at least a few moment of privacy.  I think I’m going to need a few minutes to process everything myself. It’s been a rather incredible past half hour, I’ve got to admit.  I attacked _The Mage_ , the most powerful person in the magickal universe. Simon and Baz defeated the Humdrum once and for all, sharing magic in a way that _shouldn’t_ be possible. And Simon is … I think Simon might just be a _normal_ mage now, not one with magic so strong you can sense it from outer space. Oh and, of course, how can I forget the tiny detail that Simon and Baz are in love?

The Mage is still unmoving on the ground but I have this sudden fear he’s going to wake up and attack us so I use the last bit of my magic to cast a few **_tied up in knots_ ** on his arms, hands, and legs.

This is going to tear about the magickal world. I know it.  The Coven will be able to cast truth spells on the Mage, but I’m worried he’ll still have supporters. And who knows what The Old Families will believe or even settle for when it comes out the Mage … the Mage killed Ebb and Natasha Grimm-Pitch. (Ebb never put on airs or anything but her family is huge and they’re _powerful_ with magic, like she was.) And if somehow _everyone_ thinks Simon and the Mage were conspiring ...I …

My head feels like it’s going to explode.  I’m so exhausted I can’t believe I’m standing.  I can’t deal with all this now.  I can’t think about - instead I’m going to think about how Simon cast a spell, a good one, like a _normal_ Mage.  I’m going to think about how we finally did it, that thing we’d tried over and over since our first year at Watford: defeated the Humdrum.  I’m going to think about Simon, safe and in love. Merlin, that’s all something, isn’t it?

I take close my eyes and breathe, just for a minute or two. Then I have to interrupt Simon and Baz.  The world’s kept turning and we’re going to have to carry on.

I clear my throat. “Simon?  Baz?” Baz takes a few shuddery breaths in Simon’s arms and then they both look over to me. No chance they’ll let each other go, I imagine. “We have … we have to get some help. The Mage won’t stay out forever and we’re going to have to tell … people. I can’t … my magic is all … I need to rest.” I can hear my voice trembling and I’m not going to swoon, I’m not, but I do need to sit, so that’s just what I do, right there in a pile of debris.

There’s birds, believe it or not, small birds flying in through the blasted out window, fluttering right into our nightmare. “Simon,” I say faintly. “Send those birds to my mum. Tell her to come... _right away_.” And you know? I actually trust he can do it.  And with that, the weight of everything we’ve just survived crashes down on me and I faint.

++

**Simon**

I’d be more worried about Penny if I didn’t feel like I was about to collapse out of exhaustion myself. I release my arms from Baz’s neck and take a step away from him, catching his eyes as he lifts his head. “Can I?” I whisper to Baz.  

“Are you sure…” Baz trails off, trying to not hurt my feelings, I guess.

“Yeah,” I keep my tone level, but I’m just as awed as he is, honestly. “I think … my magic is different now, Baz. The Humdrum … it was like he took all the extra, the overflow. And you … you were the circuit breaker that kept him from taking it _all_.”

I smile at him and he gives me a small half-smirk in return. He nods.

I point at a group of about five small birds. I love that suddenly all the spells I’ve spent the last few years trying so hard to learn now all feel possible and natural. I record a simple message: _“We’re at Watford. It’s an emergency, come as fast as possible and bring as many people as you can.”_ then I send the birds to find Mitali Bunce, no matter what, and repeat the message to her. They speed off. It worked. I did another one!

“Dazzled with your own abilities, are you Snow?”

“I kind of am,” I admit.

Baz gives a small laugh. “Snow, I have to, um, I’m hungry.”

“Oh. Sure - I - well I guess I can’t … I don’t have the magic to do a summoning spell like I did for that deer, it’s not as strong now so …”

And that’s when it sort of really hits me.  I don’t think I’m going to go off anymore and there’s a real, unspeakable relief about that. But I’m also not a powerhouse.  I’m not the most powerful mage who ever lived.  And that’s OK.  But so much of my life has been wrapped in that idea I - I have _wings and a tail_ and I’m not even sure I have enough magic to remove them so -

Baz grabs my upper arm and squeezes. “Snow. Stop overthinking all this. We just saved the world, we can have a short breather before we figure the rest out. I’m going to call some of those birds down. I was just telling you because I want you to look away.”

I give a jerky nod. “You’re going to have to eat in front of me some-”

He rolls his eyes. “I said look away, Snow.”

Oh, fine. Since I know Baz needs to eat, I do. _This_ time.  I hear him cast a small summoning spell on some of the birds and watch as he walks towards them, reaching his hands up.  Then I turn my eyes away. I let the full pull of exhaustion seep in and sit down on the floor, awkwardly navigating around my tail.

“ _We_ just saved the world.” Baz said and I roll the phrase over and over in my head. _We_ . He was right. We match. _We._ I like the sound of that.

We’ve destroyed this room, up here at the top of the White Chapel. Blew out windows, blasted down walls, scorched the ceiling. Ebb is here and I can’t even look at her now or my heart might break and the Mage is still out cold and bound by some spell Penny must’ve cast before she passed out. It’s disaster. Chaos. And the whole world of magick is about to change forever.

Yet somehow, something about this room still feels soothing to me. Like I’ve been here before. Which I never have. Like there’s love for me here - not just Penny and Baz - but a older, more primal kind. But that’s silly, who’d have that kind of love for me?

I’m just tired. I lay back and stare up at the ceiling and the remains of the mural up there. I see in the sooty remains of the painting the vague shapes of human figures. They’re set against a field of foiled stars and ornate black script but I can’t read what it says.

I want it to be something about peace.

++

EPILOGUE 

**Penelope**

We had all three passed out on the floor of the White Chapel’s hidden room when my mother and Premal arrived.  It actually didn’t take long, the homing spell for my mother Simon had set on the birds turned out to be very powerful and precise (more fine spellwork from this new Simon who can do powerful and precise spellwork, even when he was exhausted) so the birds sped right to her.

I can only imagine what she and Premal thought, walking into the war zone we’d left. I bet they thought we were all dead, even the Mage. But we sat up right away when they walked in, Simon and Baz with their wands out and me with my hand on my ring, looking at each other wildly to try to come up with a plan, before noticing it was Mum. (I've got to be honest, it's been kind of amazing how quickly the three of us have turned into something like a team.)

Premal ran to try to revive and free the Mage but Simon quickly stood in front of the Mage, opened those wings of his all the way up and lashed out with his tail. “No,” Simon said in a voice I’d never heard before, one completely sure and firm. “He killed Ebb. He’s done terrible things. He’s going to have stand before the Coven.” Premal paled and took a few steps back but Mum … Mum didn’t look much surprised. She cast another, stronger binding spell on the Mage and then hustled the three of us out of the room.

“People are coming,” she said as she and Premal quickly ushered us to Baz and Simon’s room in the tower. “When I got the birds, I sent messages to half the Coven.”

“My aunt, my father,” Baz began.

“Yes,” mum’s voice was firm. “Yes. I’ll summon them too. It’s time _everyone_ got involved.”

And it sounds mad? But Mum acknowledging that we were going to have to get The Old Families here and involved in this whole thing, that’s when it really sunk in how changed everything was, once and for all.

“We did it,” Simon says faintly. “We defeated - the Humdrum is gone.”

“Well done, Simon,” my mother says, her voice so gentle. “That’s all the more reason to rest. Come on, then. Premal will stay with you for a bit.”

 _Rest_. It sounded so good I didn’t even think twice about collapsing right into Baz’s bed. And I didn’t notice about Simon and Baz burrowing into Simon’s bed, wrapped up together.  

That was the new world too, I knew.

++

**Agatha**

It all came out at his trial.  Every last bit of it.

How he’d let vampires into Watford and he’d told them to kill whoever they found. How he’d used the Mage’s men to loot not just magickal artefacts from anyone he wanted but had started to take their money too. And how he’d figured out a way to _take_ magic through killing and he was planning to take it from me.

I think a lot about Ebb.

About how I always thought she was a barmy goatherd wasting her time at Watford. About how she saved me that night, how she gave herself up for me, came back for me, told me to run. About how maybe if _you_ want to spend your life as a goatherd, you should do it.

Penny says I was the best witness at the trial because I was calm and just told the truth of what happened that night without any bias. I am glad that’s how it came out because the whole time I just kept thinking about the intensity of the fear as the Mage drug me away, knowing this was the end, knowing he was going to do something very bad to me.

And I guess I was wrong. Not _everything_ came out at the Mage’s trial. Because we still don’t know where he got Simon from. The Mage doesn’t say much anymore and he’s almost catatonic most of the time. When he does speak, even when he’s been spelled, he talks in nonsensical fragmented sentences that all sound like unfinished prophecies. Everyone says he’s gone completely mad, that the shock of Simon and Baz popping the Humdrum out of existence right in front of him and then Simon turning on him sent him round the bend. Penny and I think maybe whatever black magick he used on Ebb had something to do with it too. Simon and I are the only two people alive who actually talked to him that last night and both our testimonies reflect how out of it he already was.

He must’ve got Simon from some magickal family, though, because Simon is a mage like the rest of us now. Penny says Simon has vowed to track down his real family no matter what. Just like Simon, isn’t it?  He’s always got to have a quest.

But I don’t. I’m leaving for California and I’m not looking back.  Penny asks me to stay at Watford, says now that the Mage is gone and Simon isn’t the Chosen One, it’ll all be OK.  I told Penny she was mad as the Mage if she ever thought I was stepping foot on Watford property again.

Simon, after my testimony, he thanked me. “Agatha, thanks for sticking around to testify.  It was … really important.”

“I owed Ebb,” I tell him.

“I’m sorry for everything between us,” Simon rushes out. “For being a crap boyfriend, for always pulling you into messes. You deserve to be happy.”

I think about Simon and Baz, holding hands every day of testimony, never being farther than a few feet from each other.  

I think about Lucy, her hair long and loose, her chin tilted forward to the future.

I think about Ebb and her nanny goats (Penny assured me someone was taking care of them, that was important to me.) and her little cottage and her quiet life that was _all her own_.

“Thanks, Simon.” I give him a gentle smile. “I am going to be happy.”

And I mean it.

++

**Baz**

We’re back at Watford.

I had to finish 8th year and Simon is absolutely _in love_ with school now that he has magic “like everyone else.”  He wants to take every class at Watford and read every book. It’s somehow charming.  But don’t trust me, I’m the fool that thinks everything Simon Snow does is charming.

He’s not just like everyone else, though. He might not be the most powerful mage to ever live anymore but he still has more power than most mages and a damn easy command over spells for someone who slept through the first seven years of his education. And he still has the basically unheard of and somewhat startling ability to turn almost any phrase he wishes into a spell, however weak. 

Oh, and we can share our magic, which  _is_ unheard of, as far as I know. 

Not that anyone really knows that besides Bunce. We pretended like what happened with the Humdrum was a one-of-a-kind thing we’d thought of in the heat of battle and we didn’t let people know we’d worked it before. We certainly never do it in public but we practiced it a few times in private and while it exhausts and drains us both, we can pass our magic back and forth.

Simon’s magic is still like burning, like fire. _Everything_ about Simon is like that and now I get to burn whenever I’d like. What a lovely fate.

There was a trial for the Mage. We got to tell everyone what he’d done to my mother.  Everyone knows now. It’s peace, I hope, of a sort.

The trial was a nightmare for everyone but I also think it kept a total civil war from breaking out. The Old Families saw that the Mage’s former supporters would totally reject him, starting right with Simon and going all the way down. The Mage’s supporters saw that while the Mage had some good ideas, his decision to fight with The Old Families instead of inviting them to work on the reform together had led to disaster. The trial helped everyone be ready to start a new chapter in the world of mages - even if it was going to be a complicated one.

Simon’s thinking about staying at Watford an extra year to make up for all the things he missed or couldn’t practice right back when he was always about to explode. I might stay too - find some magickal research to do while Simon immerses himself in the basics all over again. I can’t imagine anyone else living with him in Mummer’s House. It’s ours. (They couldn’t stop us from rooming together even once everyone found out we were an item. The Crucible, after all, is never undone.)

But the Mage had gone round the bend. He wasn’t even casting spells anymore, just ranting about solstices and oracles and the power of chicken blood and stars aligning. Nonsense.

“You don’t think I broke him with my spell, do you?” Bunce had whispered nervously to me and Snow when we first found out. “Micah and all the American wizards love rap music for spells so I know how power-”

I cut her off. “You wish, Bunce. The Mage did dark magic so dark magic came back on him. What he deserved.”

And I believed that. The Coven locked him up in some cottage out in the country with monitoring and restriction spells on him 24 hours a day and someone from the Coven checking on him (in rotating shifts) every week. It's what he deserves, no more and no less.

Simon’s making noise about going up to see him soon and I bet we will. Simon thinks he might be able to get some clues out of him about who Simon’s real parents are.  I just hope whatever answer we dig up Simon will be able to stand. I’ll be here to help him untangle it all, though.

“You don’t think,” Simon had whispered one night after we’d sneaked out Watford to practice sharing our magic while casting summoning charms “that what we’re doing, that sharing like this, is like what the Mage - what he did to - what he wanted to do to -”

I spun Simon around and pulled him close.  I kissed him and kissed him and kissed him some more, savoring as always the sweet, hot feel of Simon Snow and the fact I _could_ kiss him whenever I liked. “No,” I assured him. “It’s nothing like that. He was taking. It was the only way he could get it to work. But there’s nothing you can ever take from me that I won’t want to give you.”

He smiled a radiant, peaceful smile - the kind I never thought I’d see on his face, the kind I always wished I’d be the cause of. “Same, Baz. Same. Because we match.”

It was more true than ever.

++

**Simon**

My story isn’t over yet.  We’re still going to find out where I came from. And we have work to do in rebuilding the world of mages in a way that combines The Old Family’s strengths with the great reforms the Mage was right to believe in. But that’s the kind of work I relish, not the kind I’m afraid will make me burn the world down. (And I’m sure there will still be trolls and numpties and all sorts of creatures we end up fighting, though I don’t tell Baz about my suspicions that our epic adventuring days aren't quite over.)

So this is not my happy ever after. But I don’t want an ever _after_ anymore, I don’t think. I understand what Agatha meant. I want a _now_.

Here I am. In the now. Kissing the boy I love in a field full of magic.

Here I am. Carrying on.

(… and I kept the wings.)  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH HERE WE ARE FIVE MONTHS LATER. Thank you to anyone actually reading this thing from the beginning or, um, reading it at all. (sound of crickets.) Seriously. I know this is a teeny-tiny fandom and I know this is some weird concept fic that not that many people even read but THANK YOU to every person who read it and left a kudos or a comment, it meant so much to me.
> 
> These five "what ifs" have been living in my brain since January when I re-read _Carry On_ and finally knew I wasn't getting out of it without writing fanfic. So it took some time for every one of my wacky visions to come together in the right way, especially this last part, which was quite the struggle to piece together. Basically, I wanted a universe where Simon didn't completely lose all his magic because, well, that's one part I totally hate about the book. (and it's another frustrating punishment for poor Simon - he IS a mage! He just needed to get rid of the EXCESS. I hate that the book sort of leaves us thinking about him as the Mage does, a broken vessel. Nope!) And then I thought about how great it would be if Simon got to ACTUALLY confront the Mage about using him and lying. (just like how great it feels when Harry gets to do that to Dumbledore in _Cursed Child_ ) so I kept the Mage alive and that added a lot more need for structure and backstory and conclusion so HERE WE ARE BASICALLY TWO MONTHS LATER. I also wanted to leave some mystery about Simon's parents but come on how would Penny's mum not put it together? And, as always, I hope you enjoyed all the canon quotes and referenced. 
> 
> I hope that I'll be able to write some more in this fandom (I have this plot bunny where Simon decides to get the tail and wings removed and when he does his magic starts to come back and then they solve who his parents are and it's all very angsty and romantic and such) and I'd read fic in this fandom forever, so please keep writing, everyone!


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